Finding Me
by thatonecrazyrose19
Summary: Life is a series of ups and downs, highs and lows, love and hate. My life opens and closes, drifting between paradoxes to and fro. My adventures as a person and as a pirate leave many questions and open many answers. Join me, Rosalie Cass, as I learn, live and love in this world with pirates, marines and everyone and everything in between. [Currently editing Chapters 10-32]
1. Prologue: Just Some Rambling

Dear my fellow Anime/Manga/Fanfiction loving readers of all shapes and sizes,

I'm fairly new to the world of writing, but I love it and I hope you'll love it as well.

Please enjoy my story.

All rights of One Piece go to Oda for creating such a wonderful story of pirates.

* * *

Prologue: Just Some Rambling Thoughts

* * *

When people hear the words, "My diary," they cringe. When someone who thinks they're clever calls it, "My journal," others laugh.

The day I almost killed myself was the day I realized there were so many words and unspoken and unnervingly perfect gesticulations just waiting to be written.

In fact, this little black book I've set myself down to write in has become your window to my ever-living and ever-depressing heart and soul. So, no, I don't cringe or laugh because this diary is a part of me I could never forget.

The said words you shall (hopefully) read aren't just little random tidbits and stories of my life or, God forbid, embarrassing moments in which you'll cringe. Rather, these events have formed a person who's broken, yes, but slowly mending together.

This story, _my _story, is an adventure of highs and lows, in which I swing to and fro, as well as love, lust, life and anything else my mind can convey into this book.

Bear with me and my tale because, well, let's just say you're in for one heck of a ride.

* * *

A/N: Just a short little prelude. Hope you enjoyed.


	2. Deep Life Discussions

And here we are: Chapter One.

Have fun reading.

And as usual, all rights to One Piece go out to the ever creative and spectacular Oda.

Quote rights belong to Bob Marley, and not me.

[Edited: July 5, 2015 because yeah, you realize things need work after a year of looking it over.]

* * *

Chapter 1: Deep Life Discussions, I Think

* * *

Death is an ever-prevalent horror that seems to plague the world as it aims for both young and old alike. Death turned me away from a lot of the happy things in life; simple pleasures, like smiling and laughing whole heartedly. For the longest time, my mouth was etched into a permanent frown, but the things I've seen truly prevented me from even the slightest wisp of a happy look, the gossamer of a smirk.

Death also seemed to sit down with me and open my eyes. Naivety . . . sucks. It holds children back, specifically these said children, from realizing that a lot of things in life aren't good – not even remotely okay. Stealing, murdering, genocides, war, unjust laws, prejudice; these are just some of the many things that little kids can't even fathom about until they're practically twelve, or older. And yet, these things are shoved down children's' throats and shouted into their ears forcing an aging process too many years too soon.

Death gave me the chance to break free of all the bad things in life and replace it with . . . well, in the government's eyes, another bad thing. Oops. I guess wanting to be a pirate isn't the greatest occupation choice.

But that's my story . . . being a pirate. And a good one at that. Or so I believe at this point.

My story for you does begin with that over-used and unbelievably cliché opening of someone yelling to wake me up. Don't be upset, that's just life. In fact, most authors end up borrowing from other dearly old authors from time to time. People like taking other people's things, especially when said person was more successful than they are. So, anyways, just go with it. Now, sit back and read as it begins.

* * *

"Rosalie!" A great, tremendously loud and deep exclaim came from downstairs.

Recognizing the routine of every morning since I was a little kid, I groan in dread. A morning person, I am not, and he knows it, too. The sun in my face, the briskness of the air and the burden of walking to the kitchen; these define my greatest unease as the "Great Procrastinator." Apparently, I'm the greatest one in the _entire _village. Success.

My adoptive father, Commodore Mikael Cass, and I live alone in a small, quant little cottage almost secluded from the rest of our village on the isle we inhibit. Due to his _lovely _position,( yes, he is a high ranking official in the World Government) he, well, he despises pirates with every fiber of his being. Oh, the irony, (me, a person desiring to break free and become a pirate and him, a commodore.) Oh, dearest Fate, you have officially broken every law in the book.

Anyways, I looked up to the ceiling in my room and sighed. (He's calling me for training, mind you, sword practice. A skill I'm shockingly good at, or at least that's what he tells me. You never know with him.) Gradually, I lower the covers of my bed and cringe at the frigidness of the morning. It makes me want to go into mourning, truth be told.

I undress in the dark and place a simplistic black t-shirt with black pants and dark combat boots with small golden clasps, along with my black leather jacket for the walk to the training grounds. (I have a bit of an infatuation with dark colors and pigments. My silvery-blonde hair balances it out, trust me.) I brush every kink out of my knee-length hair and silently congratulate myself on such an accomplishment. And then I sigh in aggravation as my knee-length hair in combat is such a hassle. Dejectedly, I put my hair into a braid and move on to my eyes. If there's one thing you can question most about me, it's my ever changing eyes. You see, they change colors. My father said it was some disorder in my eyes that affects the pigmentation, but I'm not sure. They're . . . weird. I've never actually understood why.

Cliché color changing eyes – I would get stuck with those, wouldn't I? Perhaps there's a method to the madness . . .

Inevitably, I end up running downstairs, and approach my father's domain. He's not my actual father, but I could never imagine him to be anyone else. I love him, and I hate him, as any devious and angst-like teenager should. As commodore, my father can be terrifying, or so I've heard. Apparently I'm one of the only ones to challenge him with my eyes . . . which, to this day, confuses me. If you can't make eye-contact with someone above you, you're never going to get any respect. Respect is something earned, not given. (Oh, sorry, I went off again.)

As I was saying, I come down the stairs and give my father a long, loving hug – as any daughter should, right? Wrong. Personal contact is another con to add to my book of complaints (Note to self: Stop being such a whiner. It's a positively unattractive trait.)

"Rosalie, you've got to stop taking so long upstairs. I don't know what it is with you and that bed, but laying in it for hours isn't going to improve your swordsmanship. As Confucius would say, "Never give a-"

"Never give a sword to a man who can't dance. Wow, thanks for the daily quote from your big book of influential men with high philosophical opinions. Next, you're going to recall some past childhood experience of your amazing skills with your saber and your haki, just like you do every morning. It's freezing and yet you expect me to jump at the nearest chance to go to practice. You know as well as I that my skills are impeccable. Even Sensei agrees."

Shaking his head, he sighs. "Practice makes perfect, Ro, you know that. A marine never stands for being good. They must be great! They must strive, I tell you, _strive _to improve with every opportunity. In fact, when I was a seventeen year old, just like you, I ate a Devil-Fruit and I practiced with the thing every . . ."

I groan. Some things never change. Grabbing a piece of toast he saved for me, I top it with some jam and dash out the front door. His ramblings are best left alone when his small repertoire of tales actually ran out a few years ago. Everything after that point has been the "re-run" era as Sensei and I call it. The re-runs of a life riddled with Marine infatuation. It's like being forced to read the same biography every week and writing a paper on it except for the fact the main character isn't dead and he's unfortunately narrating it for you.

Marines have way too much free time when they're not gallantly searching for pirates.

After I dashed out, I left to go "practice" with Sensei, which inevitably became our daily ritual of drinking tea and laughing at the utter ridiculousness of The Commodore.

* * *

So, for starters, Sensei has got to be my most adored and favored man ever._ Ever_. You'd all probably love him, too.

He's fifty, but in no way does he seem to have entered the mid-life stage; he knows how to have fun like any teenager. He's also a stickler for perfection, but he knows one's limits better than they do. I guess that comes with being an amazing strategist.

He's also an amazing genius. Seriously. The guy puts so many people to shame. If there was an award for just being brilliant and never doing anything with it, damn, it'd go to him. And I don't mean that in a bad way. He influences me with his intelligence, but he doesn't boast. He's a humble guy, unlike a certain parent I know.

Sensei's name is Red. No more, no less. He told me when I was younger that as you age, your name no longer defines you, you define it. I still don't really understand the true meaning of that comment simply because his name is a color. Does the color red mean something to him? All I'm thinking of is either the red sky that appears sometimes at night, an apple or blood, and that last one is kind of morbid.

And then, of course, I'm still in the process of becoming and defining Rosalie Cass and not just remaining as good old "Ro."

He taught me shogi and chess, too. I've never lost, not even once. Sensei tries to develop my skills mentally through tactical strategies and extensive planning. I mean, I don't mind. I come from a line of geniuses, too, though Mister Commodore feels that despite the fact we aren't actually related, I received the smarts from him. This guy, I swear.

Today was weird, though Out-of-the-box weird. It was difficult, and eye opening. And once again, I was reminded about how young I actually am in the grand scheme of the world.

"Miss Rosalie, unlike your simpleton of a father, I care about your wishes and desires. Ever since that day, that brutally rough day in which you almost died, I've thought about your dreams. As one would say, 'Open your eyes and look within. Are you satisfied with the life you're living?' Ro, I can see that you're unhappy, dejected and a wreck. You play shogi with me to ease your boredom and enjoy ranting about the idiocy of your father. The most eventful time of your day is taking a walk with me and you rarely get to see what's truly in the world. Rock bottom is not where you need to be anymore. I've come to the conclusion, and this is what you need to answer on your own, not with me, not with your father, just _you_: What do you want, not what your father wants?"

And here I was planning on doing what I always do, and instead I get this mental blow to the head.

I look down, kind of eyeballing a rock nearby my left foot. ". . . Red. You know I have to be a Marine, or at least marry a Marine so that I'm integrated into the lifestyle _they _want. That's how life works in this world. Why even bring up other things as though I have a choice? And my attempted suicide was an act of desperation; leave it alone. You said we wouldn't talk about it; it was a one-time thing."

"Being a martyr is an act of desperation? Rosalie, open your eyes! Marines don't experience the world, or at least they don't properly. They strip it of the better things in life and leave it barren of all but cold laws and hardened hearts. But you, YOU my dear, have a future with so many open doors and places to go. Use your little blonde brain for once and realize that as a strategist, your best option is to go and explore. Leave this village young, wild and free!"

Should I have grown angry or gotten emotional, I don't know. I just sat there with a stupefied look and decided to envy what Red said for about a minute. I'd give anything to do what he suggested, as I have dreamed that dream since I was a young little kid. I meet his eyes and look into them searchingly.

"Just think about it Ro," he suggests in his calm way yet again, imploring me with his eyes to reach for the stars rather than just simply letting them twinkle away. "I want my disciple to be a happy one. You know this fact better than my own wife."

Nodding in understanding, but albeit sadness at knowing these things will never happen I leave him with: "I know, Red, I know. I can try and think about it. Thank you. I have to go into town now and pick up a few things."

Red gives me one last intense look – a final plea – which only ushers me to hasten to the door.

Maybe if I had really paid any attention to that look and given in to his desires, I would have seen what was to come.

And why?

Because, well, because he looked . . . excited, kind of akin to a fortune teller pleased with the future he'd just foretold to some blinded simpleton.

* * *

A/N: And here is the first chapter.

For never writing before, I actually really enjoy this fic so far. (Is it okay I just complimented my own writing?)

As usual, reviews would be amazing.

But I'm not going to attack you if you don't want to.


	3. The Calm before the Storm?

Here's Chapter Two of who knows how many.

They're all slowly coming together.

I hope you like it.

And as usual, all characters belong to Oda except for my OC, Rosalie.

[Edited: July 5th, 2015 due to my need to broaden a little and tweak a bit.]

* * *

Chapter 2: The Calm before the Storm?

* * *

Red, weirdly enough, left my unstable emotions well, more . . . unstable than usual.

Thank goodness I can go to the town whenever I want. I always have a nice amount of beli on me, so I never cut corners when purchasing things, which typically leads to me buying my cigarettes. (I am a bit of an addict. It helps me cope. Don't judge my young teenage impulses to do the wrong things in life. _I'm sorry. I swear. I mean it._) I mean, I don't condone smoking for every seventeen year old in the entire universe, but I do it. Sometimes it's just the concept of having something that can kill you in your body, but doesn't that just feels so good, so exciting. You're living on the edge, but you haven't gone anywhere.

It makes me feel more alive.

So, our town, well village, is small, like seemingly everything on this island. It has nice houses, all similar in design with wood and shingles and cheery looking windows, but I almost feel that they aren't as cheery as they let on. Happy houses are a bizarre concept. Who wants a house to look happier than the individual who inhibits it?

Anyways, despite that one nuance, it's a very simple, cozy and unchanging location that I've become so accustomed to. I despise change greatly, so having something even the slightest bit stable in my life is the greatest relief in the world. (Note: I'm still complaining. Now it's about change. Jeez, this list is getting so long. Complaints are going to be the death of me!)

I'm actually on my way to our main shop in town. The main store is (whoa, get this) one of the bigger places, which is why I love it. You can get lost in the aisles just avidly searching for books or candy or even gloves. It has everything, including my cigarettes. The supply shop is endless, though I know there's not much in the back besides a good stock of sake, which I don't dare attempt to drink with my father on the prowl and the store manager. Well, and the fact that I'm truly underage and the cigarettes are enough to quench my rebelliousness - for now.

See, Mr. Trenton Earl runs the shop. He asks 'youngins' like me to call him "Old Mr. Earl," which to this day perplexes me. He's freaking forty. If anyone's old, it's my father, who's like, twenty plus years older, at least facially. Mr. Earl is about five foot eight, which is seemingly short in this town, and even more so, the world. Though, that's only half an inch taller than me. He's got gentle eyes and lines etched into his skin, a clear sign that he's a smiley type of guy. Dimples are the go-to when your face decides to give you the slightest amount of frown lines.

Today was different, though, yet again another change. Earl wasn't even in the shop, nor were there many people around town. Walking by the typical fifteen houses it takes to get to the store, I didn't see any of the mothers who hang their children's and husbands' clothing or the dog that barks in the street, typically waiting for me to throw a ball or a bone. There wasn't little Suzie running wildly by the apple stand near her home, even though she loves to show off how much energy she has. It was dead. Scary dead.

_'It's so quiet. You'd think I live in a ghost town.'_

Walking into the large front door, I again check to see that maybe I had missed Earl through the glare in the window. However, he's not behind the counter. Slowing my quick-paced gait, I look around the aisles instead and silently hope that Earl's just hanging around out in the back. I grab my favorite package of cigarettes and leave my beli on the counter. I mean, thievery is so low in this town (probably due to my father, but you never know); even leaving money in plain sight really wouldn't concern anyone.

Cracking one cigarette out, I take a small drag and notice, far too late, that someone's literally been watching me for a while now. I take a deep breath – this time not nicotine induced – and slowly turn to see him.

It's a guy (that I don't actually recognize being from my village), naturally being my luck, and he looks to be around my age, or perhaps a few years older. He's taller than me, but only slightly, and he's got on a hat reminiscent of the western cowboy days. And for the love of God, he's not wearing a shirt. He's just showing of his abs for the world to see, as though walking around without a shirt is normal. For the love of all that is good, it's COLD in this place. C.O.L.D. I tell you, men are actually polar bears in disguise. The slight sprinkling of hair is actually a lot more than to be expected. They don't need pelts. They just have the heat capacity of a pelt.

For a moment I just gaze in wonder as to how a) this man was here the entire time and b) the hell he isn't wearing a shirt. Because we all know that somehow I cannot stay on a main train of thought for longer than . . . a minute, and because he's not wearing a shirt and even though it's cold, it's kind of really awesome and rebellious and wow, I need to cease these mental thoughts because there's a stranger watching me. Wow. Reality, there we go.

Acting like the impulsive Sagittarius I am (well, Sagittarius-Capricorn Cusp, but that's another story for another time), I blurt out, "Who in the hell are you?" Smooth, real smooth idjit. Talking to strangers is normal. Yeah, especially when you're alone with them. Thanks for using that lovely little brain of yours.

Oh. Oh, no. I have officially resorted to talking to myself. Is this the end?

He gives me another look up and down as he had been the past minute, or seconds, I can't really tell. _'The hell?'_

And then, instead of attacking me or anything, he just laughs a nice, hearty laugh like I'm a comedian or something. To top it off, Mr. Cowboy then responds with a, "Word for the wise, when coming across a stranger, if you don't know them, you shouldn't talk to them, approach them or swear at them. And yet here we are and you've done all three. I think that deserves an award. Nice job!" Laughing at me a bit more, he introduces himself. "I'm Ace."

Smart ass. Real question time, though: To tell him my name or not tell him my name? I'm in so deep now anyways, let's just continue on. What's the worst that can happen? "Rosalie. Rosalie Cass. Why . . . well, why are you here, Ace? It's creepy as all hell to just watch people in an empty store in an abandoned-looking town that isn't abandoned, really."

Ace gives me a smirk and I'm not sure if I should find that attractive and endearing or weird and just plain creepy. He replies, "I guess this village doesn't really get people like me, huh? I'm a pirate, a Whitebeard Pirate, and I'm the Second Division Commander. And, you, who seem to know what she's doing, should show me where I can get supplies."

I pause. The villagers all turned tail and hid because one of the greatest bands of pirates Second Division Commander came and visited for a supply run. And I just happened to have the pleasure of walking in on that. Joy to the freaking world. "Well clearly you're not the brightest guy, eh? My father's actually one of the commodores. You've just walked into enemy territory, Mister Ace. And I most certainly will NOT direct you to where the supplies are so obviously located. Consorting with the enemy is practically a sin."

And oh, I am so not ready to die. I can't die yet. No way! My death is so many years too soon.

All the while, I'm thinking of what to do. I could arrest the guy, which would make my father happy, show him the supplies or run away like a scared seventeen year old girl thrown into a really bad situation and wanting out. And honestly, I like that third option a lot. I don't even have my katana on me, nor my wakizashi and this fight isn't one I'd probably like. And again, I'm alone. Literally so alone; it's just me, Ace and a couple of cobwebs, and they don't really do much but get stuck in really long silver-blonde hair which happens to be my hair. Aww, man.

After a pregnant pause, Ace looks outside the shop and then walks over to my side.

'_Oh, oh no. He's right next to me. Seriously? Can I take him on?! Do I have a choice? Where is Red for this situation?! He so better not be sipping tea.' _

On second thought: '_I look like such a coward right now. Jeez. You'd think I'd be able to handle this situation, but apparently when I actually need to be smart, everything I do just fades to mush.'_

So, after I battle myself, he bends down low enough so that we're now officially eye-to-eye. It's really much too close for my liking. Seriously, what is he doing?

He looks me directly in my fluctuating eyes and says, "Well, I'll be damned. You're THE Rosalie Cass, better known as 'Lightning' 'cause you're so fast. And your katana skills aren't too shabby either. Plus, you didn't eat a Devil-Fruit, so you can swim. It's a win-win every way you can see it. You know, you'd be a wonderful addition to Oyaji's crew. How's about it? I'm not with 'em currently, but after I find these guys I'm looking for, you can meet the ever-growing crew. They're really awesome, too."

. . . That ellipse is my emotion. All of them, actually. Those three dots personify me.

No, no, no. This human boy who popped out of thin air did not just recognize me (I have a title?) and offer me the chance of a lifetime – the chance I've wanted for so long. There's no way this event actually just happened. There's no way. What is this? Is this a deus ex machina moment? I'm so unprepared. And that usually happens at the end of the story.

This isn't happening. I'm going to pinch myself.

*Pinches self*

Damn. Red had said to live life. Was this really what he meant? Pirates are everything my father said not to be. And yet here's a pirate influencing my decisions.

On the other hand, coincidentally, I really do hate the Marines. They're quite possibly the most conceited and arrogant bunch of men and women alike that I've ever laid eyes on. I mean seriously, my father is obsessed with himself, well and the past. It's disgusting. Why I would ever even fathom following in my father's footsteps is beyond me.

So, I guess this is where my crossroads of conflicting emotions and ideologies leaves me. I can't believe this . . . My father's so going to kill me, or worse, torture me if I go with Ace. And then the government is going to be after me and still after Ace, because he just seems like the type of guy to follow. And I just met this shirtless cowboy of a pirate literally less than five minutes ago. And he knows about me and what I can do, which can either be really creepy or really flattering.

My brain's being overworked. My head, or my heart?

And yet . . . something's telling me this chance is what I need. My heart knows me better than my mind does. Do I acknowledge my heart and escape the reality I've known for so long or do I live in the burden of the world and the boredom of stupidity and malice to die off as a wasted Marine?

Sighing in disbelief of my irrationality, I sputter out a breathless set of words, words that bind me to a new future dusted with the stars:

"I'm in."

* * *

A/N: I am so in love Ace. He's got to be one of my favorite characters ever. Well, out of a list of many, many characters, but still.

There'll be more development, hopefully.

Review, and so on. I greatly appreciate them!


	4. Lost in Paradise

Here's Chapter Three.

How exciting. I guess. I mean, exciting for me. I don't actually know if you're excited enough yet.

Well, Rosalie and Ace must be pretty excited too. They are going on an adventure, am I right?

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Oda, but Rosalie belongs to me.

[Edited: July 5, 2015 due to my need to actually fix some things in this chapter and story.]

* * *

Chapter Three: Lost in Paradise

* * *

Ace had smirked in success, as though he won a great war or something. I didn't know it was such a feat to ask someone to join your crew, but for him, wow, it was like he won the lottery. Whatever makes him happy, I guess. Crew mates must be his trigger. Or well, maybe it's because if you compare him to a fisherman, he just landed himself one of the greatest catches in the world. How many pirates can walk around and say that they just got a _Marine's daughter _to join a _pirate crew?! _ It's just really unfortunate that I gave in so easily to his demands and my heart. Way to be my pacifistic self yet again. (Fatal flaw number two: Being too pacifistic in times of strife. )

So, I decide to be useful to my new "partner?" and tell him where to find the supplies, also known as his 'initial request.' "Um, so, Ace, the supplies are in the back. I think Earl usually leaves a key right about . . . ah! Here." I take the key out a little kitty cat money jar that he has on his desk. His wife painted him the thing, which looks like a polka-dotted tabby cat, but not really, with a fish collar and a blue and brown eye, even though I feel like deep down, tabby cats have blue and green eyes. I really feel that way. Heterochromatic eyes are just the coolest things in the world, seriously.

Oh, yeah, so the cat's fish collar has a secret latch and inside is the key. I used to pester Earl all of the time about the back room when I was younger because I thought I would write a murder-mystery novel about the dead bodies he hides in the 'deep, dark and scary back room,' but he wouldn't open it for me. After almost three weeks of me begging him – to the point where I was on my knees to open it – he finally took out the key, thus showing me its 'prized' location and led me inside. To my shock and great disappoint, Earl didn't have any dead bodies. Or a freezer, even to hide said bodies. He just had fifteen barrels of sake and random junk for fishing and things of that sort. It was one of the saddest days of my life.

I ended up giving up on writing murder-mystery novels, too. Oh, childhood. Oh, the misery. Imagine little me just kneeling in front of a store clerk begging to see dead bodies. What on earth? What little kid is actually into murder-mystery tales?!

So, I unlock the storage room door and show the stocks of sake and other stocks of food and drink, and well, fishing supplies. It actually seems more depleted than usual. Hmm. Earl hasn't gotten a new shipment in, I see.

"For a little village, you guys have enough to keep a person going for a lifetime. Thanks, Rosie."

"A lifetime? Seriously? Do you . . . not eat or something? There's enough for a small bunch of people if you rationed properly. Then deduct the time it takes for food to mold and rot and the amount of days without the right amount of cold air and you're left with -"

"I got it; seriously, I get it, Rosie. I was just messing with you. It's enough to handle going to the next island – that's what I meant." Chuckling, Ace begins to bag the supplies.

Rolling my eyes at my new nakama, and new nickname (?), apparently because everyone just feels the desire to change my name, I begin to stalk away. Why does everyone feel that the name 'Rosalie' needs changing and why do they never ask me? It's my _name! _ Don't you know that the person who has the name deserves to share the opinion of the new nickname?!

Sheesh, the nerve of some people, I swear. As I grumble to myself, I know, now, that I'm going to be traveling, so I grab a lot of cigarettes and chocolate because I mean, who doesn't love chocolate?

Then I realize: we're stealing. (Whoa, really?) Yeah, so I leave some more beli on the counter and pray that Earl doesn't get too annoyed. I mean, the entire town is going to know it was me who took everything. Maybe if I find a treasure chest, I can send it back here as recompense for being a rebel.

I think back to Red's words and I shake my head. He seriously must've known that this event was going to take place. Some sixth sense he had must have told him that a pirate of all things was coming to town. I know he'd want me to go, so that's why I decided to pack and take supplies so easily. It's not the best thing to do, nor the most polite, but as a caged bird, it's time to break free.

"Aye, Rosie, come 'ere for a sec," Ace beckons me from the back. I approach and see he's looking at a saber. Not like I don't have enough katana or anything . . . Not like I don't own weapons, or know that that saber probably isn't even necessary to add to my repertoire. They're not as fun to use as katana either, really.

"Take it."

"Ace, I've got a good enough amount of swords and things at home. I was going to grab a few anyways."

"No, seriously, take it. What's one more going to do?" Well, Ace, it's going to be another thing I have to carry, but I mean, why not? Sure, let me just become a pack mule of sharp, brutal objects.

Reluctantly, I take the saber and put it in a latch I have specifically for swords and things of that nature on my belt. It's nice, I guess. I mean, I have a good eye when it comes to a thing of beauty. It's got a nice red ruby on it, so I can't not like it, right? (Ouch, I threw in litotes to throw you all off – just kidding, double negatives are great, ne?)

I then realize we've actually wasted a good chunk time just scrambling for things around the store. I rebuke Ace and ask, "You done yet? What if someone sees you? Me? Us, together? You're a pirate, remember?"

He rolls his eyes. "Hey, Stupid, you are too. Well, okay, now you are. I'm the one and only Fire-Fist Ace. I can take 'em."

God, that ego.

I hate it. A lot. A lot. A lot! Seriously, do people just come with these things, or are they crafted? Why _don't _I have an ego?

All of a sudden, he bounces up. "'Kay, I'm all set. Let's go!"

And off Ace ventures into town all the while towing enough supplies for him, and I guess me too, which could, I hope, last us until the next island. Please, please, please.

And as for me? Well, I sprinted home. Yeah, seriously, I ran home. I mean, seeing as the Commodore was gone for some meeting of sorts, which is surprisingly luck to say the least, I thought, "Why not?" and grabbed my katana, or three, a knife and my little, proudly maintained gun, which is a Colt. These are my babies, or should I say, prized possessions. Oh, and my wakizashi because you can never have enough sharp objects to impale things with. And then on second notice, I realized my sudden disappearance might actually terrify both my father and Red, so being the intelligent and evasive lass I am, I wrote a nice inelegantly written note due to my horrendous penmanship ( a mix between an angry scrawl and foreign hieroglyphs) addressed to the both of them, which clarified the reason for my leaving. Of course, one was much more heartfelt and caring than the other, as I only ever spoke in blunt undertones to my father anyways. Red was the one who wanted to hear about all of my journeys in the world, not my father.

Giving one last look at both my room and my little home – the only house I'd really ever thought of as home up until this point, I put my right hand's fingers to my lips, kissed them and touched the front door. I no longer had a static home. From now on, I had entered the world of the dynamic and the free, the ruthless and the vibrant.

It was a scary and exciting prospect and I loved it. The thrill, the fear, it was as though I had become a something and not a nothing. I wasn't a Marine; I wasn't my father's puppet; I wasn't a total emotional train wreck; I was quite simply the daring and mildly stupid Rosalie Cass.

And so, together, Ace and I began our interdependent journey throughout the world to find whoever the hell he was looking for while I enjoy the sights and smells of lands unknown to me. And maybe just maybe, I'll be lost in a paradise all my own learning things I never knew and seeing things never seen. I silently laugh at this new and bizarre happiness I've long since ever felt.

And in the back of my mind, when Red said to take a leap of faith and get out of town and experience life, I don't think he meant like this per se. - Shrugs - I've practically just condoned taking the unforsaken road. And enjoyed it, too. Aish.

* * *

A/N: I hope you enjoyed.

Reviews are always welcomed!


	5. Going From Somewhere

Here's Chapter Four.

I know it's weird to just keep posting chapters, but I've kind of had this idea in my head for a while now, and the words just keep coming to me.

Enjoy, and review and follow if you'd like.

{Disclaimer: One Piece is Oda's creation, not mine. Only Rosalie belongs to me.}

[Edited: July 5th, 2015 because things could've transitioned better.]

* * *

Chapter Four: Going from Somewhere Coldish to . . . Somewhere Colder

* * *

When we had left my village, I had morphed into quite the optimistic kid, which is surprising due to my completely reclusive and depressing behavior. Quite the turnaround, I must say. It's as though childhood me had returned to spurn a new decade of happiness. Except for the fact that I'm a realist and such happenings are rarely ever seen anywhere.

However, I also realized why I never had wholeheartedly debated leaving town. It's really a petty thing, too. I just simply hate the water. It's a passionate hate filled with past experiences of almost drowning and almost being drowned. Both were not fun, especially as a kid. And what's worse was the fact that Ace just expected me to climb on this little Jet Ski boat thing with him and ride the waves of the sea. I'm traumatized.

I mean, his boat thing is really cool and yeah, I know how to swim, but there's a lot of water. A lot of water. (Complaining again?) Oh, and wait, doesn't a Devil-Fruit purposely remove the ability to swim? So then, why does Ace so gallantly jump onto his boat which so haphazardly floats atop the waves? That's really dangerous!

No, but seriously, why am I so concerned for him?! It's his own fault for eating that stupid fruit.

Jeez. Well, anyways, that was quite an obnoxious assumption of him. I'll literally make him rue the day he ever made me go on this . . . this thing with him. I really need to ask him what to call it because Jet Ski boat thing seems kind of a mouthful and I don't enjoy naming such a small thing such a nice title.

Never mind, I christen it with the abbreviation: JSBT, also known as the Jet Ski boat thing. There we go. I solved that problem flawlessly, if I do say so myself.

While I rambled inwardly about the name of the JSBT, Ace stepped out onto the boat, and then out of the blue, took my hand and pulled me up right next to him. Out of absolute fear and trepidation, I flinched and clung onto Ace for dear life by wrapping both my arms around his waist like a scared little kitten who doesn't want to jump into a bath. (And boy, oh boy, if he smirked, I'll knock his lights out.)

After the initial feeling of skiing across the sea, I realized I never even fathomed how this type of travel was possible. And yet, I kind of loved it. I felt free, like really free. The wind in my long silvery-gold locks, the sun on my skin and the smell of the salty sea wafting through the air, I felt bliss. I was lost in paradise. My dream was becoming a reality.

I, being a curious kid, wondered how Ace could propel the two of us across the sea as if it was nothing.

"Ace! How're you doing this?" I yelled to him, even though I was right next to him. The wind made it harder to hear when talking at a normal decibel. The faster we skied, the louder the wind whipped at us. It was exciting and unnerving at the same time. I wasn't used to such an intense velocity.

"That's my Devil-Fruit. I can control fire," he smirks. "Quite useful in this case, isn't it?"

I stared in bewilderment with a faint smile on my lips. 'Using fire to propel yourself across the water is real natural, Ace.' And then, looking at the effortlessness of his motions and the strength in just his ability alone, I realized something else:

Pirates are crazy, crazy strong.

That idea alone floored me to get stronger, and terrified me all the same. Just who am I going to come across on these seas?

And who am I going to become because of these seas?

* * *

"It's cold, Ace, really really cold."

So, get this one; don't knock me for totally complaining just yet. Ace decides to stop at this island, right? I mean, he said he was going to look for an inn we could stay in and food, but still. This island, I think it's called 'Drum Island,' though I can't be sure, my geography's a little off, and it just so happened to precariously appear in the ocean just as we needed it. _Right._

So, why am I complaining so vehemently about this island that seemed to appear as a blessing? Wouldn't you know that it's covered in snow? Yeah, sure, I'm dressed mildly warmish, and by that I mean, I have a jacket and pants and warm boots and all, but it's snowing. And there's a lot of it. My island wasn't anything like this one. I didn't get heavy snows like this. I didn't have to walk up to my ankles in snow banks and practically have icicles hang from my hair. And, even more so, all this coming from a person who actually seriously loves the snow.

Plus, the environment all looks the same. Great, big beautiful pine trees filled with thistles of a plethora of greens and adorned with small patches of snow. If I was even the slightest bit of an artist, I'd attempt to paint the trees and the snow littering the ground around it. Snow sparkles when hit with the light. It's so delightful. It's blissful. Except for the cold.

In fact, I'm shivering so violently, I swear I'm going to lose a tooth due to my chattering teeth. And of course, naturally Mr. Hot-Head, the Mera-Mera no Mi user, has no problems whatsoever in negative twenty-plus degree weather. _Naturally._ Though, he did decide to sport a long black coat, and boy, am I jealous of it. It looks so _**warmmm.**_

Ace rolls his eyes at me. "Oi, quit complaining, we're just taking a slight detour. Here's a book about the island. You look curious." Because my complaining this time isn't totally understandable, Ace!

Removing my hands from my pockets and praying frostbite doesn't claim my lithe fingers, I grab the book and search for 'Drum Island'. Of course, when I say search, it's code for slowly, lethargically, grab a side of a page and drag it to the other side of the book because I can't move quickly due to how frozen I am.

Turns out, the Sakura Kingdom is located here and as noted, it's covered in snow and features a series of drum shaped mountains known as the Drum Rockies. In addition, the two first known Zoan-type Devil-Fruit users came from here. (Oh, God. I actually like history. On second thought, who writes all of that in a book? Hold up, people chart Devil-Fruits? Can I get that job? I already have one currently walking right next to me, and my father had one, too. Hey? No, seriously, though.)

"W-w-wait. W-w-hy are-e we-e he-ere?"

Ace grumbles. "I told ya before. It's 'cause I'm looking for someone."

"Y-yy-yeah? L-like wh-o-oo?"

"Oh yeah, I never told you. I guess I forgot." He scratches the back of his head as though it was an honest mistake.

'No way, really,' I thought, feeling the insatiable desire to roll my eyes. I would have too, if not for the cold. In fact, it feels like all the nerves and muscles in my face are frozen. I probably have a bright red nose. Screw Rosalie, I'm that red-nosed reindeer's reincarnation.

Ace continues despite my inner monologue. "I'm actually looking for two people. My brother, Luffy, and my ex-nakama, Teach."

I was perplexed, and tried to control my shakes. This is news to me. "Y-you have a br-r-rother? I never would have guess-s-ssed. Is he part of your-r, um, captain's crew-w? And-d-d an ex-nakama-a?" There's so much I have to learn from my dearest traveling partner. Thus, these questions prove the fact I literally know nothing about Ace, which is why I shouldn't have been so quick to just up and jump to the challenge of traveling with him. Damn impulsive reflexes.

Ace aloofly looks to the left of him as though the snow on the left was more interesting than the _same exact __**snow**_ on the right. Sure, Ace, you do that.

After a moment, Ace meets my gaze with a loving look in his eyes. '_Why is he staring like that?!' _

"Luffy and I grew up together. We're not blood related, no, but we're brothers deep down. I love him and would do anything for him. We had our moments of having bouts and quarrels, but after living with him and our other non-blood related brother, Sabo, I realized he was an amazing kid. He just recently came into the pirate world. He's seventeen just like you. However, he ate the Gomu Gomu no Mi. He's a rubber man."

'_Ah, brotherly love. That's actually really sweet. I wonder what it'd be like to have a brother?'_

Ace breaks off, looking ahead as though he's reliving a pleasant memory. I wait in silence imagining the joys of having a brother or even a sister. It's hard always living alone with just my father and Red to take care of me. It's no surprise that I have no idea how to truly relate to people. Red and my father were both pretty emotionless – well, my father more so than Red, but Red did have his moments of being pretty stone cold. It became almost natural to not feel like most people do.

Snapping back to reality, Ace continues, this time more aggressively, "Marshall D. Teach was a very close friend of mine. He was a member of the Second Division, _my division_. The position for Commander of the Second Division was open to both Teach and I. However, he let me take the spot. We had a lot of good times under Oyaji. And then . . . one grave day, he murdered Thatch and ran. I'm going to hunt him down and kill him, Rosie. I'm going to make him _suffer_."

Shocked, I stopped in my spot in the snow. "Why would you feel the need to avenge Thatch by killing Teach? If you're the Whitebeard Pirates, aren't you supposed to be crazy strong? If Teach could kill Thatch-"

Ace cuts me off in a slowly building rage, like I just added fuel to the fire by bringing up the rest of his crew. "I just do, okay! It's my job as the Second Division Commander. I could never let someone like that get away with something so heinous and evil! What if a person you know and actually cared about killed someone else you loved, Rosalie?! Wouldn't that drive you over the edge?! Wouldn't you want revenge?! Wouldn't it hurt so deeply that you can't feel the same way you did before until the wrong done is righted?"

Ace gives me a glare so powerful and angry, I actually have to back up. His eyes, usually so calm and happy, look so frightful right now. I've never witnessed such a passionate display of emotion toward another person before. He feels like a pirate more than ever before, and I don't like it. I can't deal with it.

And then, as I thought about his words, I got angry, almost hysterical. Ace doesn't know me from Eve. He can't just yell at me like that as though I've been sheltered my whole life. I _do_ know how that feels. Almost exactly how it feels. But I'm not about to go jump into the flames like a headless chicken just to defend another. Revenge kills a person; it doesn't make them stronger; it sucks the life out of the individual, slowly weakening them until they wither away into nothingness. That is revenge, and I, for one, cannot simply stand here and approve of it.

Balling my hands into fists, I take the more pacifistic route and walk away. _'I'm such an idiot for even going with a stranger anyways. He's a nutcase. Losing people sucks, yeah, but don't yell at me about something like that! And don't you dare make something like avenging another person sound like your only option.'_

In an angry and blind rage, off I went into the forests, but this time, on my own, which may or may not have been the stupidest move I could have done.

* * *

A/N: Ouch, Rosie's on her own. Poor kid.

Always have to add in that cliché fight it seems. And yeah, Ace probably seems a little too aggressive right now, but honestly, I think deep down, he was probably so angry and revenge ridden that he would've snapped if someone called him out on it with an entirely different perspective. Blind rage does that.

Hope you enjoyed.


	6. I'm Really Dumb, Move On

And here's yet another chapter.

Ta-da~

{Disclaimer: All rights of One Piece belong to Oda and unfortunately not to me. I do own Rosalie, however.}

[Edited: July 6th, 2015 due to a 738-word chapter that just didn't seem fair to the readers.]

* * *

Chapter 5: I'm Really Dumb, Move On

* * *

All right, my dear readers. (Assuming that I have readers, actually, because let's be real – I'm kind of a whiner who . . . whines. Wow. I really just wrote that down. I think I've achieved a new low in society. A "whiner who whines." I didn't even make it an elaborate topic or anything. I think I need to go back to writing for a little.) Anyways let's all stop and take a breather, shall we? I mean, I need to take a breather so, I'm going to whether you like it or not.

Okay, so, Ace and I just had a weird little fight. Well, rather, it wasn't so much weird or little as it was just a mega misunderstanding with two forces that really knew nothing of the other and caused some serious friction. That's truly the basis of our argument; I see this now. However, looking back on it, me being me, I just walked away. I just _walked _away. As if that's just the thing to do. When the going gets rough, and you can't cope, walk away. Yeah . . . Go me. I deserve an award. Hell yeah! An award for being:

STUPID. PETTY. ARROGANT. OBLIVIOUS. SELF-CENTERED.

I know. Don't all shout at once. I feel your glares all whilst I write this part of the journey about wherever Ace, and technically me in a sense, are going. I'm glaring at me, too. Well, my inner subconscious is giving me quite the talking-to.

But before everything gets really intense and I just end up beating myself up, let me defend myself first. Ever since I was a child, yelling has caused me to panic and shut down mentally. I can't think, nor can I feel like usual. My mind processes things at a much slower rate and I feel claustrophobic even in open spaces. It's like being shot with words. I can't hear anything but the words yelled at me and I automatically tear up. I'm not even a real crier kind of a girl. However yelling . . . yelling breaks the silence and the peace in my mind and throws in too much chaos, too much pain. It hurts my ears; it hurts my heart. And it's all due to one personal experience I had as a child.

It's honestly really pathetic, but it was a serious thing for me. When I was five, my father yelled at me and hit me for eating mashed potatoes with my fingers. I loved to eat potatoes. So, every time my father experimented with a new potato recipe, I'd find different and creative – albeit bizarre – ways to eat said potatoes. I wanted to change things up, too! So, he yelled at me and threw a wooden spoon at me. How ridiculous! And yet, I was so enraged and upset and fed up. I even stooped as low as to run away from our little house. All this because I couldn't deal with being called a sloppy eater with a lack of table manners and the lack of ability to properly behave in society.

Unfortunately, I ended up getting lost in the woods for three days. I walked around the trees and had trouble distinguishing one tree from the next. Everything was so big and new to me. If you never studied trees, every tree is going to look similar save for the build of the tree, the height, the bark and the color of the leaves. Otherwise, trees are all pretty much the same. And it was so frustrating. I'd pace back and forth looking through the trees in hopes that if I didn't make it back before the night finally set in completely, I'd at least find a cave or some sort of shelter. However, I failed to do so. I couldn't find food or water either. So, then there was also that fact that I was alone, as well as hungry and detrimentally thirsty gnawing at me from the inside.

When the darkness had gotten to be black as pitch and the stars were bright enough to count, I gave up for the night and sat under a pine tree. I could manage to not eat or drink anything for one night. However, I forgot that there were animals in the woods. The owls began to call out and screech for mice hiding under leaves and in the branches. Howls from the wild dogs and wolves began to echo through the trees. It became so noisy; I was terrified.

At one point when I had finally succeeded in drifting away to sleep, a snowy owl swooped down and caught a mouse. It looked over after I had jumped in shock at the sudden amount of action in front of me. We had a few moments of eye contact as I stared into its golden orbs before it flew away. I have a mild infatuation with owls today, but at that point, I never wanted to hear an owl hoot ever again.

On the second day in the woods, I realized that Father was probably going mental looking for me. Naturally, the guilt started to eat me alive, but I'd already screwed myself over so much that thinking about it just wouldn't do. I spent the entire day trying to figure out my location. I picked up a stray rock and marked trees with different signs for what I believed to be the 'North', 'South', 'East' and 'West' of a compass. Of course I could be completely wrong, but it was worth a shot. 'North' received a triangle mark, 'South' a circle, 'East' a square and 'West' a star. Soon, it seemed the forest was littered with my little tiny shapes. Despite the creativity and the excitement, I was still lost, bored and distressed. I just wanted my bed.

In the dead of night, I sat in the middle of this cave I tripped upon and hid. After struggling for so long to find a place of shelter, the cave was a saving grace and I couldn't be happier. Of course, I should have realized that animals are far more adaptive to their surroundings than humans and that a smart creature would probably rest in this cave, but I was so exhausted and deprived that I didn't care enough to look. After a few moments, a wolf ended up finding me. I guess I _had_ intruded on the poor thing's home. Instead of eating me, the wolf, which I noticed to be a female due to the size of her face and nose, nestled up to me and kept me warm. All through the night we kept each other company and I christened the dear with the name Aleu. I loved her company; I loved her in general. I never wanted her to leave my side after that night.

That following morning, Red found me and took me home. When I asked him what led him to the cave, he told me I was "smart" and that there was "no way I'd stay hiding on the ground to only sit and freeze to death." I was too exhausted to laugh or praise him, so the minute I went home, I fell asleep. When I next awoke, a nice plate of eggs and bacon came to my bedside.

Despite my strenuous journey, and my adoption of the wolf, things were never really the same as they had been. Father never yelled at me again, but he never apologized either. He didn't acknowledge that he was wrong for yelling at a child. He began to treat me as more of a nuisance who needed to be watched rather than trusted. He treated me like I was going to toe the line more so than anything else. It was a rough time to grow up in knowing that behind the façade that everything was okay, he was doubting my every move.

So, naturally, when Ace yelled at me about how desperate he was, I lost it. Even though I told myself not to, I reverted back to the error of my young, naïve and immature ways. It was like my body had moved to abscond before anything else in my body could decide otherwise. And by the time I realized that I should have stayed and talked with Ace rather than leave in a teenage tantrum, it was already too late.

After a good ten minutes, I deemed myself as lost and leaned against the trunk of some tree. Because of course, there would be more trees for me to get lost in. And no, after twelve years, I had not cared enough about trees and the flora of the world to learn about the different kinds. So, here I was, twelve years older and not twelve years wiser.

And so I sulked. How embarrassing. I didn't think I would need to learn about the flora because I didn't expect to pull the same move that I did last time, but here I am looking like a child. It's so bad.

So instead of pulling the exact same move that I did last time, I got off the trunk of the tree and tried to find the route that'll lead me back to Ace. I turned around and attempted to retrace my steps. I mean, I couldn't have walked that far from where Ace and I had been standing, right?

Right?

The snow had gotten to be almost blizzard-like and the harsh winds whipped at my face and nipped at my exposed skin. I could barely see a couple of feet in front of me, and my breathing had become so bad, I probably sounded asthmatic. It was like even the world had turned against me, and it was driving me crazy.

After attempting to walk in the direction I thought I just came from, I tripped over a rock – I'm guessing – and seriously cut my leg. I looked down to find a gash about five inches long and two inches wide bleeding rather profusely and dripping down my leg. Even the snow had received several drops of my blood already. It looked like one of those horror novels where the heroine turns around at the wrong time, gets scared and gets hit by a tree rather than the evil enmity attacking her.

_'That gash is huge. And I don't have anything to cover it with. Ace, y'know, you might be a jerk, but I'd really appreciate it if you pulled a deus ex machina and popped out of nowhere. I really would like your coat as well. And food.'_

I continued to send well-wishes to Ace in hopes that he would feel my deep and distressed thoughts. To no avail, however, as Ace seemed to not receive them. The entire time I sent my silent wishes to Ace, I never even realized or sensed a presence behind me. I was so preoccupied with myself that the moment in which one of the branches behind me was stepped onto never even registered into my ears. Well, that was until whoever they were decided to knock me out. It felt like my head was hit by a branch – a really, really, _really _thick branch.

That typical black shadowy wisp of a world encases me.

Ah, there the cliché cliffhanger appears.

Go figure. I knew it was coming.

* * *

A/N: I wonder how I should take this next part.

I think I'll stop updating for today, and rather instead, I might just wait for reviews. If you like the story and have any recommendations, I'm all ears.

I'm really quite open to inspiration.


	7. More Marines, Oh Joy!

I thank you guys for all the views I've gotten on this story so far, as well as the favs and follows.

And that one review. My day was literally officially made.

So, instead of working on a project, I wrote this one up as reward.

Another chapter may, or may not come out tonight. I'll have to see.

{Disclaimer: One Piece belongs to Oda, I just felt the need to include Rosalie into it. Lyrics belong to Nightwish and their song, "The Escapist".}

[Edited: July 6th, 2015 because I didn't like it. That's really about all I can say.]

* * *

Chapter Six: More Marines, Oh Joy!

* * *

I hope I'm not mentally handicapped after that blow. No, but in all reality, why is it that the go-to way to make an individual forcibly faint is to hit them on the back of the head? There are so many other more peaceful methods and yet, every character that decides to harm the protagonist typically slams them on the back of the head. I mean, I probably would as well if I had a reasonably large object to hit a person with if I was too lazy to use chloroform, but it's just the idea that hitting a person on the back of the head is the "norm" for people these days. I'd like a new, less painful tactic that isn't chloroform and doesn't hurt as much. Maybe villains should get a suggestion box of some sort that takes in ideas from the "good guys" just so that we don't have to suffer as much in our journeys.

Wait. Am I the good guy or the bad guy? In the government's perspective, I'm on the spectrum for being one of the worst people in the world for abandoning the path of the mighty and just Marine to devolve into the savage and brutish pirate. So, of course, I think I'm the good guy, but maybe it is all just a matter of perspective and where your loyalties lie decides which side you view as the "right" one.

Oh, whatever. That's just too much to look into at this point. Either way, my head is killing me.

And well, while I'm at it, "Encased in black." So poetic. Literally giving myself bonus points before passing out. I think that the more poetically you exit a scene, the more you deserve at the end of the day. I mean, how many people do you know that bestow a really deep . . . erm, "darkness" (?) line at the end of their chapter after being walloped in the back of the head? Precisely. Just me. I think it's pretty cool, and we should all adopt this totally bizarre character trait. I should definitely get a petition going.

Anyways, on with the story. I swear. We are now back to the story.

Slowly opening my eyes, I witness a white, sterile looking room with white-wash, seemingly blank walls and one open window looking out toward more snow. It pleases me to know that I wasn't taken off the island because then I'd have some difficulty. Difficulty finding Ace; difficulty finding how to get anywhere that wasn't here; finding out who took me and how I can either get revenge on them for slamming my head or just grandiosely running away from them.

Rubbing the back of my very sore and much bruised head (as I must reiterate that my head was hurt _badly six times_), I get off the bed I just so happened to be laying on in hopes of an exit or a sign of life. Ironic, if you think about it, because snow usually represents death. If this is a prelude to the end, I really don't want to know how this event may go . . .

While searching the room in vain, I softly hum a song I used to listen to all of the time when I was bored or struggling through dealing with my father, or training and earning myself a nasty bruise on my wrists.

_Virgin snow beneath my feet_

_Painting the world in white_

_I tread my way_

_And lose myself into a tale_

It took a little while to get back into the swing of singing, both due to the rustiness of my voice and the cold. But after a few stanzas, I was fully immersed in song. It felt so good to submerge myself into music after so long. With a song solely about escape and always feeling the need to break away, the entire concept just seemed to warm up my situation. I smiled while looking when a voice called out to me.

"So, I take it you can still sing, eh, Miss Cass?"

In fright, I flinch and turn around to see the man whom I assume to be my captor.

A second wave of panic bequeaths me as I realize I know this man.

A third wave of panic as I realize that not only do I know him, but I'm _related to him. _He's my _uncle._

Standing at a relatively tall seven feet with a head full of dark brown locks tied back into a pony tail, one can only assume that he's either reliving a time of long ago or he's evolved into a modern-day Marine hippie. Either way, he's quite a weird guy to look at. And he's dark brown eyes shine almost black, giving off the effect of deep hypnosis or evil.

He's seriously creepy, trust me. Sometimes I wonder how on earth I was ever related to this guy. He's not even my father's brother. He's actually blood-related to me. We come from the same lineage. Oh, and while I'm ranting, who asks their niece a question while referring to them as "Miss Last Name?" What is this family coming to?!

"So, if I may be so bold [You captured me and now you're asking me if it's okay to ask a 'bold' question. This guy, I swear.] as to ask about your oh so secretive life, why in the hell would you abandon my fellow Marine and brother of sorts to run away with a _pirate_?"

Oh, dear. The fact he's still continuing the conversation and completely jumped into the more serious matters defines the reason as to why I never desired visiting my family. My life doesn't actually matter. Believe me. Better still, why is he even on Drum Island? He didn't live here before. And yet coincidentally, my poor Uncle Thomas would be the one to find me in the middle of nowhere.

Smirking, I don't respond. He and I definitely do not have a good relationship and my even being here is shocking enough as is. Conversing with the man may just push me over the edge.

"Rosalie." Oh, he's still going. Maybe if I ignore him long enough he'll leave me alone.

". . ." I stand tight lipped and look at the wall behind him, studying the pattern. Apparently, he enjoyed triangles as the entire wall portrayed some cascading isosceles triangle pattern intertwined at opposing vertices and switching between different shades of white. Here I was thinking they were blank and instead they actually did have patterns. How intriguing.

"Rosalie!"

". . ." Hmm, now that I think about it, the door is pretty interesting, too. If you look at it closely, you can detect the aging and coloring process of the wood as well as the type it is – mahogany. I love mahogany. It's so regal. I mean, I for one, could totally go for some mahogany just all over some room I had. It could be on a pirate ship, in a house, a desk itself, a door. Just the concept of mahogany is so beautiful I really wouldn't -

"Rosalie Catherine Cass!"

Let's just take a moment and question something: Why does every adult superior in authority to a child feel the need to spout out the accused individual's middle name when in the middle of an argument? Does that make them feel powerful or something? If I missed that boat, I wouldn't even care. It's ridiculous. Is it so empowering? Why do I never know adults' middle names and why do I always miss the opportunity to call the out in the same fashion? The accused are people too, you know!

Finally, I look my uncle dead in the eye. "You act like I'm some crazy, lunatic prisoner who needs to be put behind bars for finally emerging as the person she wants to be. Unlike other peoples' uncles who support them, and care about them, and oh, I don't know, check on their family members, because that's a totally normal thing to do, you just sit back and hide on Drum Island. What do you do the entire time, hate me? Hate my parents? Hate the fact that deep down everyone knew that I wasn't going to fulfill our family's idea of the 'perfect' person and join the Marines? Do you seriously despise me that much that you had to out of your way to hit me with whatever you hit me with just to feel better about yourself?! Did you honestly do that?"

In a belligerent manner, Thomas angles himself as though he was going to smack me. In a manner as nonchalant and probably as disrespectful as possible, I continue on.

"And why in the hell, literally why, would you even dare become a Marine? I thought you had aspired to become an author or even a journalist! How could you conform to the way the family behaves. Just because you are a part of this family doesn't mean you have to be just like them. The beauty of human nature is to be _yourself._ We are all born with free will and the power to make our own choices. You following the elders is just like sheep to a shepherd. You weren't cattle and yet here we are. It's disgusting and unsettling."

Thomas stops whatever facial expression he was making, (I assume he was trying to be threatening) and lets out a grievous sigh. And then he sighs again. I definitely hit something there. Thank goodness. Here I was thinking he was actually going to just full-out slap me. I mean, in his perspective, it may have been actually justified, but to me it was just kind of rude and I didn't want to suffer a different kind of injury. The colder the gets, the more painful wounds feel because your skin isn't as used to the climate as it was to the former climate it was in prior.

"Rosalie, you endangered yourself and your father by running away from home. Working with a pirate is against the law, even you should know that. Your father almost lost his job because the higher-ups believed he was conspiring with the enemy. While you're flouncing around who knows where with a boy you've only seen once, your father was trying to save his own skin."

I open my mouth, "But that-"

"Let me finish. Your family, every single relative in the family from the time the World Government came together, has been in the Marines. Your family has had Admirals, Vice Admirals, Generals and the like since before you were even born. The prestige your family," he coughs realizing he was disclosing himself from the group, "_our_ family has is unreal. Of course my involvement in the family was going to equate to me joining the Marines. My former aspirations would have led to nothing. How would I have provided for my family? Your aunt understands that and respects my opinion to become a Marine instead. You should, too."

I guess I should elaborate on the idea that my both my adoptive family and my biological family have decided that being in the Marines is the greatest honor to uphold on this God forsaken planet we call "Earth." It just happens to be an honor I'd much rather throw out the window.

I've never liked the Marines since the day I first met them, way back to when I was a young little girl. The reasoning as to why I came to hate them is a story not even I feel comfortable sharing with you currently.

It's a dark road, and it seems to have chosen me to walk down it.

After dropping that wonderfully planned nuke on my emotions, Uncle cooks me breakfast. Yeah, I know. Pause. He decides to yell at me, make me feel bad and reminisce about horrible memories all the while deeming me a horrible person and then cook me breakfast. Tread lightly, my friends. He is officially crocodile in the water, the owl in the trees. He's going to get you – the problem is when.

However, I must give credit where credit is due. He was a fantastic chef, if I may say so myself. He could cook anything under the sun, and it'd taste fantastic. Me being the picky eater I am, somehow he always knew what I'd like.

Uncle sits me down at this mahogany table (yes, more mahogany!) in the center of his dining room, putting our plates next to each other, just like when I was a kid. I smile recalling the better days in my life.

"You remembered I liked my eggs sunny-side up?"

"'Course. You being the pickiest eater in the world had its perks. I can only ever remember what you ate when I cook."

I laugh and he joins in. I might hate him and his arrogant ways, but I'll give him props to making me laugh.

After eating for a few short moments in silence, I ask the question that's been sitting on my tongue since I woke up despite it being one of the most controversial questions I could ask:

"So, when can I go back to Ace?"

Uncle chokes on his bacon and slams his fist onto the table, which inevitably rattles every dish on said table. How uncouth. I really was enjoying my meal until he pulled that move. Ah, I guess the eggs will have to wait. Aish.

"You. Are. Not. Going. Back. To. That. Damn. Pirate. Do I make myself clear?"

Seemingly out of breath after broadly spacing out each word in that statement even going as far as to enunciate every syllable, he drinks a glass of water as though it's the only thing keeping him sane at the moment.

Rolling my eyes, I get up and go back to that disgustingly white room. Out of boredom and lack of giving any more fucks today, I fall back to sleep. I would have climbed out the window, but I had no idea what was in store for me, nor where I was, and I wanted to see if I could find out any more information from one of the worst relatives on the planet.

* * *

"My brother called. He's coming to get you with a small fleet of Marines."

Groggily, I open my eyes and give Uncle a look. '_A _small_fleet of Marines needs to pick me up?'_

"Why da 'ell does a man like 'im need a fleet of Marines to come pick me up?" I cannot believe this. Is he that paranoid? Does he believe I'm going to hurt him and run away? I mean, we never had the best father-daughter relationship, but I'm not just going to kill him because I decided to become a pirate! Though, if it were my uncle, there's always an entirely different set of options for me to choose from. He's not as safe as he can believe.

Not wholeheartedly listening, it turned out he had actually continued to ramble on and on. "Because Rosalie, you broke the law, and from now on you'll work under your father as a Marine. We're not playing around anymore. You're seventeen and this is reality. Playing with pirates might be fun, but they're all going to get what's coming to them one day. Get up and get ready."

'_They're all going to get what's coming to them one day._' Okay, but real talk, some pirates are too big, too big even for the Marines to take on. There's no way that the Marines are going to dish out retributions to all of the pirates in the world. Some pirates actually have pretty clean records as well, so that entire comment is stupid. Taking the most random white vase I could find on the side table, I grab onto it with my right hand and throw it with all my might at his stupid little head, which was actually rather awkward because he was so close to me and because he was an unfortunate seven feet tall.

The vase slams into the left side of his cranium and snaps into a billion little pieces. The inertia of the vase knocks him unconscious and leaves those precious doors wide open. Wow. I actually made the shot. I would've celebrate my small success, but I feel like a guy of that size could wake up pretty quicly from a hit like that to the head _unlike the blunt object he took to _my _head._

In the most eagerness I could muster, I run straight through the doors, grab my thin jacket, as well as one of Uncle's scarves and a pair of black gloves, and leave his house. I think I got all I could from him. The way he's behaving, you'd think he'd taken a vacation from his Marine duties or something. There's almost no activity on Drum Island so there's no need to protect any civilians. The most they'd get hurt from is the cold if we're being realistic here.

However, Uncle doesn't know truly how much he helped me by holding me captive.

A) I'm officially warm now.

B) I got a free pair of gloves and a scarf and,

C) He lives right next to a town on the island where Ace wanted to go.

Seriously, in the weirdest way, I'm actually so grateful. Families are actually great when you're the one making the rules, not the higher ups.

And then I stop in my tracks. Ace probably doesn't want to see me, nor even speak to me. He's probably just assumed I either died or found someone better to take me places. I've officially screwed myself over on this one. Mildly face palming, I massage a kink in my neck and pray that isn't truly the case and that he's forgiven me. Anything would be better than staying with my uncle a little bit more and then receiving a _**lecture**_from my father. Those are deplorable!

No, Ace, I beg of you to take me back!

After walking into town, I notice it's fairly empty (not another one!), probably due to the temperature outside. I look optimistically in every nook and cranny of each and every alleyway in hopes that I might see Ace's black coat. My search is in vain, however.

Not even his bright orange hat, or in my case, what I consider to be the beacon of light, can be seen.

I'm alone.

Dejectedly, I approach a shop with some dumplings. Taking some beli out from my pocket, I hand it to the man and ask for three dumplings on a stick. He happily obliges and asks me some questions. Because you can never just purchase food and leave, can you?

"You're not from here, are ya?" He asks me. His little silvery mustache bounces up and down after every syllable, like it's got a mind of its own or something. It's a little creepy. He's not that creepy luckily. He seems to be just a curious old man, but now I can't be sure. Is the mustache a sign, or am I being paranoid?!

Going with my gut, I tell him: "Nope."

"And you're lost I take it?" Well, if I'm not from around here, that would make me either a foreigner, or lost, or both, right? Thank you, sir, for stating the obvious.

"Yep."

"And you're probably looking for someone?" Wow. This guy is amazing. Someone should pay him, and not just for these really good dumplings that I should have purchased more of.

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

"A man with a black coat and an orange hat came through asking if someone he'd described to look just like you had come in." Whoa. My gut was right! Not a creepy old man. Nothing to be paranoid about! He's cool; it's all good; he won't kill me or call me out!

Excitedly, I mildly yelp out, "Where?! Which way did he go?"

The man jumps to write me a mighty fine set of directions due to my sudden burst of energy that I for one am not sure where it even came from. His directions were so simple and clear that even a directionally challenged dimwit like myself could follow them and ushers me out the door.

"Miss?" I look back at the old man. "You'll find him."

Smiling, I nod in gratitude and journey to where I believe Ace is.

I got lost only twice. No, seriously, I did. Let's just all silently congratulate me that it was only twice. I totally could've gone for more. In fact, my one mistake was that I took the left when I should've taken the right, but otherwise, that guy did fantastic with the pictures he drew. I should've tipped him for such amazing directions. I just wish I wasn't such a ditz that I still confused the left from the right! It's so pathetic! Maybe Ace could teach me how to better navigate directions? I'll have to ask him.

Looking down the road, I discovered that Ace had actually been staying at the Luna Inn while I had been fighting off uncles and running through the streets like a crazed person. That lucky bastard. Well, I shouldn't call him that. It's not like I didn't have a nice place to sleep, despite its mental ward look, it did have its perks as a home. I just automatically saw it as evil because of . . . Thomas. Just thinking his name makes me shiver.

Entering the inn, I look around the main hall and find a woman behind the desk. Skipping up to her spot, I ask her really quickly if she's seen a boy around my age that matches the description of Ace that I gave her. With a slight tilt to her head, I can see the wheels turning as she thinks about who has stopped in and who has stayed there for longer than a couple days. Finally she says, "I've seen him."

Happy that I'd found the location, I smile. And then I wait because she says nothing else to me.

"So, where is he?"

She looks up, and realizes she left me hanging there for a little. I'd have just walked through all the halls, but that seemed pretty rude. "Erm, sorry, I think he was in the dining hall. They just finished serving so check the upper halls and staircases, I guess."

'_I guess. Wow. I have officially heard it all. It must be so easy to get a job nowadays. Even me and all my complaining could still probably land me a job if I needed it.'_

Thanking her, even though I feel like she needs to be retaught on proper etiquette to guests, I look around the corner and do indeed spot Ace heading up the stairs.

Ignoring any hope for keeping up decorum in joy I run to him and shout rather loudly:

"Ace! Ace, I'm here!"

He turns, and giving me the biggest smirk ever thought possible, starts to run as well and grabs me into the most spine-shattering, breath-taking hug I've ever had in my entire life.

"I thought you died in the cold, Rosie. You just literally vanished into thin air. Like a freaking phantom or something. That so wasn't cool." He rubs the back of his head, clearly reviewing my disappearance in his head.

I giggle, and walk up the stairs with him, slowly recalling the moment I had with my uncle and the idea that my father's after us like white on rice.

Ace just shrugs it off. No seriously. He stands there, looks at me and shrugs. A fleet of Marines and he doesn't have a care in the world. It's actually pretty admirable.

After a couple of minutes, he said it was going to be okay . . . and I think I'm slowly starting to believe him.

* * *

A/N: This chapter is a little bit longer than my other ones.

I like it. I hope YOU guys like it.

Review, if you'd like.


	8. The Awkwardness of the Hour

Here's Chapter 7!

Enjoy, and I'm glad I wrote this one up. I almost thought I wouldn't have time.

{Disclaimer: One Piece and Ace belong to Oda, bless him. Forever jealous of his prowess.}

_[Quote belongs to Robert Frost.]_

[Edited: December 2nd, 2015 because I haven't edited in a while, and this chapter especially needed some work.]

* * *

Chapter 7: The Awkwardness of the Hour

* * *

_The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep. - Robert Frost_

* * *

"Ace, you are aware - I hope - that there's only one bed right? And yet, if I do this small amount of arithmetic properly, there are two of us."

"I hope you're well aware that ten minutes ago I thought you died in that snowy field," Ace responds with his smirk. "Your sarcasm never fails to detract the severity of the situation – or lack of one – I hope you know."

Touché. I mean, I did almost disappear into a wintry wonderland that turned rather sour. And had to suffer the apparent wrath of my ungrateful family of Marines over my totally amazing occupation choice of late. And by late, I mean the span of not even a couple of days. What a time to be alive.

Keeping up with my typical overly sardonic tone, I replied, "Well, then, I guess I'll sleep in the floor."

I mean, is that so shocking that I would offer someone else the only bed in the room? I think not. I am so not sleeping in the same bed as someone I've just met. Doesn't that go against practically every code in the book? "Thou doth not sleepith in the sameth beddith" . . . or something of that nature? Otherwise, I either look overly desperate or far too casual for any seventeen year old girl. It's just bizarre.

Ace slowly – and I think just a bit condescendingly, though I may be interpreting his facial expression far too much – turns to me and gives me a sly smile. "Rosie, are you literally such a baby that you refuse to sleep in the same bed as me?"

Cue that unnervingly annoying and totally unpreventable Mary-Sue blush.

My face is so red you'd think I'd lowered whatever bit of self-confidence I had left enough to paint a bright cherry color on my face. And unfortunately, this isn't some epic type of battle war paint. This battle is more mental than anything. And I kind of just lost.

Biting my lip in embarrassment, I respond with a dejected, "Sheesh. Fine. I don't know. Just don't touch me. I don't do close contact." However, that whole phrase came out a bit harsher than I would have liked. I just haven't been used to normal bodily contact in so long besides the occasional pats or fluffing of my hair from Red that anything, or anyone besides Red, touching me would just be far too weird and difficult for me to comprehend like a normal human being. Of course.

Ace rolls his eyes, all the while slowly taking off his hat, large black boots, coat and shirt. Because the shirt would just have to be removed whilst sleeping. I forgot. I forgot that men almost feel the need to practically sleep naked because they all seem to be natural heaters and not freezing cold ice cubes like yours truly.

How could I forget such a thing?

Following in the manner as Ace just did, just without taking off my shirt - of course - I climb into the bed, which actually feels very nice after the amount of walking I did today. The downy sheets, and soft comfortable pillows welcome my body, and boy, does it feel delightful. The pillow holds my head in such a simple manner; I forgot why I even complained about sharing the bed.

Somehow, I managed to beat Ace into getting into the bed, even though he was so motivated only a few moments prior to go to sleep. After a couple of minutes, Ace returns from the bathroom and climbs onto the mattress after me, taking up more than half of the bed, including the comforter. If only I wasn't so tired . . . I most assuredly would have complained the entire time up until he moved his relatively larger and bulkier body out of the way.

* * *

So, I somehow find myself running down the hall. It's a fairly typical hallway that seems to stretch on for ages, a concept most of my dreams seem to feature. That's probably the main indicator that this even is a dream if I'm correct in my assumption. The walls of dark; it must be the middle of the night. There aren't any windows that I can see, except at the end of the hall. Yet, even then, that window seems so far away. The moon barely provides any clarity in the darkness.

I continue to trip and scrape my knees, wasting valuable time all the while. My lack of kinesthesia is poor, even in my dreams. How unfortunate that while I should be running from whatever seems to be lurking in the shadows, instead I am falling due to my inability to acknowledge the spatial relationship between my foot and the ground. How pathetic.

I hear screams and panic, which leads to more falling. The only problem is, I'm not even sure what I'm running from. I just know I should keep going away from any source of conflict. However, the source of conflict seems to be growing with intensity the further I attempt to propel myself down the hallway.

"ROSALIE! RUN!"

A voice seems to pierce through the muddled screaming I heard only a few moments ago. I barely recognize the voice due to the wide span of years from whence I heard it last, but there it was: my father's voice. It motivates my body to move off the floor again, and to try and keep moving like my father sad to do. However, neither of us anticipated the man at the end of the hall by the window – the location I thought would be a safe location to escape to.

I slowly look up in the direction of his location, and there I see something I should not have seen. There, in the palm of his right hand, is a machete. A brazen weapon capable of a tangible amount of destruction. However, it was not even the machete that positively took my breath away with the amount of fear that slowly crept into my soul. No, it was not the frozen air in the hallway, and the crisp wind coming through the window signifying just what season it was.

No, nothing could quite possibly frighten me as much as what I was looking at in the man's other hand.

There, held by the strands of her luscious golden locks – the locks I inherited and nurtured for years – is my mother's head.

"MOMMA! MOMMA NO!"

I jolt awake, breathing raspy, short breaths and awaiting the final, life-ending blow of the man's machete. I look over to the window in fright, as though he might actually still be there, watching me, holding her.

However, the blow never comes, and I realize I've had the same repetitious nightmare I've had to suffer many times over. It's become so familiar to me that it no longer even feels like a nightmare. It always feels like reality, and the present is the true façade.

"Ichi . . . ni . . . san . . ."

I gradually count to the number twenty in Japanese to calm my ever-growing nerves, as well as steady my breathing. Looking around and remembering my surroundings, I glance to my left and witness Ace's sleeping body.

His already peaceful face has even fewer stress lines present and a simple smile etched onto his skin. His hair sloppily cascades over his left eye and sticks up in the back, typical of any guy whom refuses to brush his hair.

I sigh. I'd give anything to have a good night sleep. Just for once in my entire life, I wish I was granted that joyous thing we call, "sleep." The past naps at Uncle's were a blessing to some degree as well as an unfortunate prelude to Hell on Earth.

My minor Insomnia really hits home. Literally. I can never not have nightmares about the death of my parents, or other peoples' deaths. I'm traumatized to close my eyes and witness the brutal deaths of people getting murdered, or tortured or worse. Even the term, "They died peacefully in their sleep," is a joke. No one dies peacefully. It's a person's cross to bear. I've come to the conclusion that no matter how glorious your existence was, no matter how wonderful a human being you were and no matter what you did in life, your end is still going to be a painful one. However, I feel the intensity might vary depending on how you actually pass on in life.

Assuming my adoptive father's predictions about my eyes were correct, my eyes give me spiritual insight, more than most people. I am precognitive, retro-cognitive and clairvoyant. These traits mean that I can see the dead, predict the future, and see a past event and future which could not have been learned or inferred by normal means.

It's a natural gift, and a bloody curse.

It leaves me overtired, and sleep deprived. Most people welcome the night. And here in my world, I dread it.

At least Ace is happy. He's probably dreaming up some weird gathering on his captain's pirate ship drinking sake and having a wonderful time. It must be nice to know that's an actual reality for him too. I wonder how on earth he could have maintained such a deep sleep with my jolt, but knowing him, he's probably had to sleep through far worse on a pirate ship full of vulgar and brutish men with a passion for alcohol.

The best kind of people, I'm sure I'll come to find that out.

Lying back down, I look up at the swirling lines in the ceiling and get lost in my thoughts, some envious and some pensive. Too late do I realize Ace has draped his extremely heavy and overbearing arm over my waist and tucked me closer to his revealed chest.

And here I stay forever remaining in the awkwardness of the hour.

Well, until he wakes up.

Or should I say, if.

* * *

A/N: Ah, and the story continues. I hope you like it so far.

Seeing all your views make me happy.

(Reviews would make me happy too.)


	9. Turn It Off

So, here's Chapter 8.

I tried to bring in the more sentimental aspects, which can be difficult.

I hope you guys enjoy the chapter.

_**{Disclaimer: One Piece belongs to Oda. Lyrics belong to Paramore.}**_

_[Edited January 24th, 2016, because it wasn't very good honestly.]_

* * *

Chapter 8: Turn It Off

* * *

_And the worst part is_

_Before it gets any better we're heading for a cliff_

_And in the free fall I will realize_

_I'm better off when I hit the bottom _

_-Paramore - Turn it Off_

* * *

Chewing his food, Ace looks at me. Or at least, I can sense the fact that he's totally watching me.

Refusing to stare at him, I watch his fork instead. It was a quality fork from what I could see; nice, silver, typical fork-shape, mildly ornate quality . . . All right. I get it, I'll stop describing the fork and start divulging on the actual issue at hand: last night.

Last night was weird. How can I just be okay with that? I mean, for one, he's literally a humanoid furnace, (all roads point to that Devil-Fruit of his) and second, he practically smothered me in his arms the entire time, and personal contact for a multitude of hours even though I'm not totally used to it was strange.

Sure, I'm probably over reacting and albeit, being a complete and utter baby about this, but still. I'm more or less confused, less about him and more about me.

_'Why does it bother me so much?'_

Finally I give in to his pleading gaze, which inevitably means I lost that battle. _Again_. Then again, what can you expect from those eyeballs boring into my forehead.

"What Ace?"

"What'd you dream about last night, Rosie?"

Oh. Uh. Wow. Okay. And here I was thinking he was going to talk about our sleeping arrangements. And how they were weird, or abnormal, or maybe even the slightest bit awkward to him. No, instead we decide to have a chat about my rocky sleeping habits.

"Nothing. It was just a random nightmare . . ."

"And screaming in the middle of the night, breaking into a cold sweat, and resorting to counting out loud are all considered 'nothing'?"

Okay, either I'm the biggest idiot in the world - maybe the better term is oblivious seeing as I thought he slept like a rock the entire night -,or this guy is one of the best 'I'm over here sleeping' sleepers ever.

"Ace, seriously, it was just a bad dream. I get those all the time. It's a perpetual habit of mine at night."

"You screamed about your mother. Your mother whom I know nothing about. So, until you're ready to talk, we're not going anywhere."

Ace gives me the most steadfast and parental look I've ever gotten in my entire life. I just can't do this here. Not now, not in public, not to him. How utterly ridiculous. It's far too early in the morning to have a deep life discussion about my constantly-disturbed dreams.

"Ace . . . please. I . . . can't deal with this right now. It's something personal, and private. I mean, I can't even talk to my own father about it." _Not that he would really enjoy having a personal heart-to-heart with me. _

Ace gives me a long look before he responds. "Oh, so it's really important, eh? You know, Rosalie, I'm your new partner and friend now. If I'm going to talk about Luffy, my own brother, and the man I'm planning to kill, you need to be just as honest as me."

_You've got a point there . . . I guess._

Slightly trying to appease my panic, I desperately request, "Just not here. In public. Please. And you can't ask questions about it while I'm talking." _Questions will make me want to stop. To forget. To pretend. _

"Deal."

* * *

I'm discovering that Ace can actually be extremely receptive to things. Rather than place me anywhere without a care in the world, he took me to this amazingly remote and serene location in the snow with the trees in a circle around a fire pit. I'm grateful. Now, of course, I could have questioned why area was so wonderful and simple, but the logistics just weren't coming to me at the moment.

It doesn't calm the ever-pressing nerves, however. It just slightly allows me to stop visibly shaking about the memories - the past scars I'm about to bring up haven't healed properly yet.

Talking about this . . . event . . . may just put me over the edge. There were so many reasons why I never liked to bring it up, to write about it. Reflecting on it just made me ill.

When I started off with Ace, I thought I was freed from that cliff of sadness and regret. However, I've realized I never moved. I'm always next to that darn cliff. I just pushed myself to pretend that it was no longer there.

Ace sits down next to me and focuses his attention of the fire, rather than myself. I think he realized eye contact wasn't going to happen at the moment.

"Okay, you can start. I'll listen. I promise."

Sighing the biggest sigh I've ever managed in my entire life, I begin to recall my past.

I was three years old.

My hair was much shorter, only going to my shoulders and much lighter. My mother really liked my hair, and often styled it with girly features, including: bows, ribbons, clips and bobby pins.

Apparently, I always smiled and laughed and had an abundance of energy unlike the lethargic quality I'd adopted over the years.

I loved the outdoors and playing. Everything was always exciting and had some childish splendor that only someone my age could find exciting.

Playing was especially fun with my parents. They were quite possibly the two most amazing people I'd ever come to know.

My mother's name was Violet. She was the prettiest woman in the world, or at least that's what my father and I believed. Her blonde hair always angled in face in beautiful ringlets and her blue eyes were soft and gentle. However, if you looked hard enough, you could see the inner feistiness of the Taurus inside her.

She was an angel. My father adored her, often buying her the very same flowers she was named after. Everything they did together was mildly symbolic to their names, or their zodiac signs, or the type of weather. Everything was special. Even the tiniest pebble may elicit some sort of feeling or emotion the two had previously had.

And I thought that it was the coolest thing in the entire world to witness.

My father was a Cancer. Somehow the two balanced each other fantastically. Where she was passive, he was aggressive and vice versa. He also had beautiful blue eyes; however, his eyes were more gray –blue, like a stormy sea. He had his temper, but he was a strong, helpful man with a kind, misunderstood heart. His name was Phillip.

When my parents had me, I was automatically adored by their family. Not the family of my adoptive father - full of the belligerent psychos obsessed with the Marines. No, my actual family was nice. I loved them, and they too, loved me.

I was the light of my family. The genius prodigy who could do things unimaginable. I did math problems in my head that most third graders couldn't even fathom. I could play involved board games and draw rather involved sketches. Everything became rather easy as I got older.

However, my genius would become a problem not even my parents could imagine.

The day of my third birthday, it snowed. It was a blizzard that only the Winter Warlock could be proud of. The winds were insufferable, the snow relentless. It was a dreary birthday, that's for sure. But I was happy. Snow was always something I was rather attached to.

My mother made me a cake, double chocolate; with a big number three of a candle perched atop its delicious chocolate frosting. Mother and father ate with me, their slices only slightly larger than my own (they had larger stomachs, of course).

Too soon was it time for bed. I guess the concept of time flying while having fun is a truthful one.

Crawling under the covers, my parents bid me a sweet 'Happy Birthday' and a farewell 'Goodnight'.

If only I knew what was to come . . .

I believe it was around three in the morning. The haunting hour of night. If anything seems to happen, it always tends to be around this time, or so I've come to find out.

A scream.

A flash of lightning.

And my father running into my room at a breakneck speed.

"Rosalie, there's a man in the house. I need you to go. Come here. We're leaving!"

Terrified out of my wits, I jump up; throw on my slippers and dash over to my father who has my coat readied for me.

We begin to run down the hallway of my house, the same one that happened to be in my nightmare, and end with the man cradling my mother's head.

After casting away her decapitated angelic face, he proceeds to stabbing my father.

My two, strong and wonderful parents were both murdered in the span of under five minutes. I personally will never understand how they were taken by surprise or why anyone would choose _my _parents out of all the parents in the world.

And somehow I was forced to suffer it all alone.

The murderer glanced over at my shaking body as I looked against my father, bloodying my pristine clothes.

I cried and cried. My tears wouldn't stop no matter how hard I tried to cease their flow.

And the man just walked away. He could murder my parents and just walk away. Like a shadow in a dark corner that slowly drifts away after a light turns on.

As he left, I looked upon his coat to see something I would have never expected.

The man who killed my parents you ask?

Well, it's honestly quite simple to say you see.

He was a Marine. From the outline of his cap, to his large boots, from everything I could gather in those few moments, he was a member of the government. A government member murdered my parents.

Mentally, physically and emotionally drained, I lay in my father's dead arms. After a few moments, shakily, I got up, and took a knife my father always kept on his side. I'd never leave home without it ever again. It would act as a safeguard and a memento.

Going to my mother's poor head, I gingerly wrapped it in a blanket – which is entirely the creepiest activity I've ever had to partake in – and brought it over to my father in the hopes that at least they would be together in that sense. I covered them both with another blanket, practically tripping as the size ratio of myself to the blanket was ridiculous, but I managed.

Praying for both of them, I left the house in search of someone who could help me.

I found no one.

Red found me three days later.

He was passing by; ironically it would seem, in the area I happened to be located. Everything is coincidental if left in the eyes and capable hands of Fate.

I was hungry, dehydrated, and frostbitten through and through.

But I lived. And I still live, suffering with my losses and trying to get by.

If Red wasn't there, if he wasn't my guardian angel, I'd be dead.

When I showed Red where I left my dead parents, their bodies were . . . well, gone. I mean, the blankets, the bodies, everything had entirely disappeared as though nothing had happened. So, either the act was never meant to happen, or I was never meant to get away.

No one really believed me. I never even got around to mentioning that it was a governmental mission to murder my parents because no one could get over the fact that bodies were missing and I had just magically appeared hidden in the snow and crying.

They saw the knife which had been slightly dabbed in blood – my father's blood as he died. They thought, me being the genius I was, I had found a way to murder my parents.

And so, I went down as the child who murdered her parents, both very strong former Marines, and gained a bounty of 200,000,000 beli over my head. However, they couldn't arrest me, or plainly execute me. They had barely any substantial proof, and I was such a little girl.

So, they gave me to my adoptive father, to watch over me both as a father and as a Marine with a potential 'sociopath'. My entire life had become so entirely messed up in the span of a couple days.

What shocked me most was that there were Marines killing Marines. The unbelievable act of betrayal. It was like getting slapped in the face knowing I was in the clutches of my enemies who acted as though they were doing me a favor.

I vowed to redeem my parents and their deaths one day. And to never cut my hair for my mother who loved it so very much. Seeing as she loved her symbolism as much as she did, I decided that the easiest form of a symbol would be my hair.

I could never forgive what that man had done to me, to my family and to my life.

We may be asked not to hold grudges, but this one was far too personal for me.

There. Is. No. Forgiveness. For. A. Coldblooded. Killer.

Thus, in total, suicide was becoming a substantially better option for myself. With a gung-ho Marine of a "parent" and almost no way to move on with my life besides eventually becoming a Marine myself, my options were becoming rather slight.

And so that's my story, Ace. All the blood, guts and tears for the world to see.

I wasn't crying. An unbelievable feat for myself seeing as at the mention of violets, my eyes typically becoming pools of water.

I just sat and stared at Ace's lifeless expression. He looked like a wreck.

I probably did as well, but I mean, with a story like that, who could blame you?

Holding his head in his hands, Ace tears a little in the corner of his eyes.

Realizing he's crying, Ace wipes the tears away, as though he has to be strong for me.

And then he hugs me.

It's not a bone-crushing, rib-breaking, spine-snapping powerhouse of a hug.

It's sweet, and gentle.

It's . . .

It's just like Ace, the only person I have with a steady shoulder to lean on. I'm so grateful for Ace. I'm so, so grateful.

* * *

A/N: I hope the edit was better than the original because it wasn't very good to begin with, sorry.

A review, or many reviews would be appreciated if you liked that.


	10. Alabasta Bound

Here's Chapter 9.

More traveling.

The previous chapter was really deep though.

I needed to calm it down.

So, enjoy!

All rights of One Piece and Ace go to my man, Oda, for being an amazingly creative person.

* * *

Chapter 9: Alabasta Bound

* * *

"Three things cannot be long hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth."

Buddha truly hit the nail on the head on that one.

After literally spilling my guts to Ace about the years of anger I'd been harboring in my heart, I felt free. It was like some bonds, or metaphorical chains renounced their hold over me and let me go. I could actually breathe easy, even if that sounds weird.

I've come to this conclusion:

Ace.

I needed Ace.

I needed someone stable in my life with a comforting smile and a non-judging eye. I needed someone who could love me just for me, and be by my side just when I needed them.

And I got him.

* * *

Ace held me in his arms for only minutes, but to us, it felt like time had stopped. The snow had slowed down, the wind died off, and the fire blazed at the perfect temperature.

He eventually let me go.

"How does one so little hold onto so much since they were three?"

His voice sounded distant and scratchy, as though he'd forgotten how to talk.

"It was hard, Ace. The Commodore wasn't a true father figure. He mimicked the real thing. And Red loved me. But there was always that hidden aura inside him that I was actually a killer, and a good one at that."

"Children were always too old or too young to talk to, and honestly, no one really wants to hear a story like mine. I grew up to be really reclusive, and became good at holding in how I really feel. I wasn't good with close contact because I forgot how to trust people."

"I found solace in music, in writings, like poetry and novels, as well as in history. Whenever I was down, or fed up with my father, or school, I'd sit and read, or play music. I was kind of at my limit, yet again, when you stumbled across me in the shop."

At this, Ace smiles.

"Well then, Miss Rosie, I'm glad I 'stumbled' across you and your village when I did. That was one heck of a story. I'm sorry for having to make you delve back into such a dark childhood."

"Eh. If our . . . partnership as nakama is going to work, we need to have a balanced ground. I guess it's only fair. There's no need to apologize. I feel much better now."

"Good, I'm glad."

We smile at each other. It's one of the truest smiles I've ever had in my life.

"Rosie?"

Ace gives me a quizzical look.

"Hm?"

"What musical instrument do ya play?"

"Oh, well, that's easy. I play the violin, the piano, the guitar and I sing. Learning instruments got pretty easy with all those years of having nothing better to do than learn. My father thought I was being productive, for once in my life."

"I guess so. You'll play for me once won't ya?"

Laughing, I say in eagerness, "Of course!"

Thinking of a song to hum to, Paramore's "Looking Up" seems to be the perfect outro for this situation:

_Things are looking up_  
_Oh, finally_  
_I thought I'd never see the day_  
_When you'd smile at me_

_We always pull through_  
_Oh, when we try_  
_I'm always wrong_  
_But you're never right_  
_Oh, you're never right_

_Honestly, can you believe_  
_We crossed the world while it's asleep?_  
_I'd never trade it in_  
_'Cause I've always wanted this and_  
_It's not a dream anymore, no_  
_It's not a dream anymore_  
_It's worth fighting for_

* * *

We end up spending one more night at the Inn.

And this time, I welcome Ace's warmth.

That bed is freezing.

And no, that does not mean I enjoy sharing the bed with Ace.

I'm just _enjoying_ the additional warmth he provides, seeing as I'm a block of ice.

So, of course, I'm happy.

Together we make up: The Furnace and the Ice Block.

* * *

Alabasta's our next stop.

Alabasta is an established kingdom with a long history since it's a very old country. It is located on Sandy Island; roughly half-way through the first part of the Grand Line. With a population of over ten million people, this desert kingdom definitely has a lot in it.

I can't wait to explore somewhere new, and of course, warm.

* * *

"You know, Rosie, I have extreme narcolepsy."

"You . . . What?! And you're just telling me that now?!"

"Yeah, but get this. It hasn't happened since I've started traveling with you. It's the weirdest thing in the world."

"The hell? You make it sound like I'm a drug keeping the narcolepsy away."

"Well, maybe that's just it! Now I'm definitely never letting you leave my sight."

"Hey, Ace. Get this."

"Yeah?"

"Shut. The. Fuck. Up."

* * *

After traveling to Alabasta, I realized Ace and I had a problem. Neither of us was properly dressed.

Well, that was until Ace took out his little green backpack and had clothing for himself.

He comes back to me sporting nice black boots, black knee-length shorts with an eyelet-studded orange belt, a blue pouch belted around his left leg. He also wore a short second belt with a red 'A' on the silver buckle over his right hip, but left it unfastened and threaded the free end along the back of his shorts. A dagger in a green sheath hung at his left hip. On his left arm, he wore a Log Pose and a red and white striped bracelet around his wrist, an orange elbow guard, and his "ASCE" tattoo. He also wore a red beaded necklace and his signature orange hat.

For once in my life, I honestly think he's got something going with walking around without a shirt.

It's so hot; all this black clothing is making me dizzy.

I lied when I said I wanted it hot.

Why can't I get one location with just the perfect balance of hot and cold?

IS. THAT. SO. MUCH. TO. ASK. FOR.

* * *

"Ace. Ace I need lighter clothing."

"I know. We'll find a shop. I don't need you dying over there."

"Gee, thanks."

* * *

The one shop Ace and I found did happen to sell clothing.

There were very few options to pick from. However, these dance clothes they had were all very light and comfortable for the heat. Naturally, that's what I decided on wearing.

I put on the skirt, which is red, and falls down to my ankles, with red sandals with backs and a jewel on the larger toe section. I also put on the red top, which features small sparkling jewels and a white over coat garment without sleeves, which also reaches my ankles.

Spinning in a circle for Ace to see, I show off my new clothes.

"What do you think?"

Ace splutters a bit, with a slight blush coming forth on his cheeks, Lord knows why.

"It's f-fine, Rosie."

"Don't die over there, Ace. It's just an outfit for this heat. Chill out."

Ace is too far gone in his tiny world for him to notice I'm still trying to hold a conversation.

Paying the manager with some beli I had, we leave.

Well, we left, but one more so than the other.

I assume he'll be okay.

I think.

* * *

"Hungry?"

"'Course. What'd you like to eat?"

"Anything at this point. I've been contemplating eating you for the past ten minutes, Rosie."

"Naturally, your first option would be to resort to cannibalism, Ace. And naturally I'd be your first victim."

"Most definitely."

We laugh all the way to the restaurant, I think the only restaurant in this town, Nanohana, and enter the doors.

* * *

Who could've known what was to come?

* * *

A/N: You like the story so far?

With the amount of views it's gotten, I'm assuming you guys do.

If you'd like me to do something specifically with the story line, Ace, or Rosie, I'm all ears.

Review away.


	11. Smoker, Can We Just Not?

So, I know. I totally neglected an update.

I'm sorry.

I've been ridiculously busy.

My schedule tends to have these crazy highs and lows.

But the amount of views on my fic has made me so happy.

I DID write a portion of this chapter, and well, that is I had it, until I stuck it in my backpack and lost the paper (I swear it's a black hole in there.)

So, instead, I tried to write from memory, and if you've ever tried that, it's ridiculously hard and possibly stupid to do.

I hope you enjoy all the same.

And review! Seriously.

It'll make my day.

Just one teeny tiny little review.

And as usual:

Ace, Smoker and One Piece belong to the amazing Oda.

* * *

Chapter 10: Smoker, Can We Just Not?

* * *

"So Rosie, wanna hear a joke?"

"Oh. Oh, God, no, no, Ace. Please."

"Shh. Just trust me."

Cringing, I look to Ace.

"So, this mushroom walks into a bar and starts hitting on this woman

She, of course, turns him down.

Not willing, to give up, he pleads with her:

"C'mon lady, I'm a fun guy."

After that, Ace starts cracking up. Literally. I mean, he almost started choking after reciting one of the corniest bar jokes in the history of the world. While, naturally, being at the bar.

That poor bar tender.

What a guy.

And no, not a fun guy, a guy. God.

Stupid Taxonomy Kingdoms. (Sorry, I couldn't resist. I have a quiz on Classification and Taxonomy in Biology tomorrow. It seemed pretty après peau.)

"Ace, did you really feel the need to say a joke while waiting for our drinks?"

"'Course, Rosie. God, if only you were around when my buddy Thatch was. That woulda had him laughing for a solid half hour, at _least_."

Well then maybe it's a good thing I wasn't.

That would have been _terrifying_.

"Here are your drinks. I'll have your food shortly."

Ace and I reply simultaneously, "Thank you!"

"Jinx!"

"You owe me a drink!"

* * *

Laughing like little kids, I think about what it would be like on Whitebeard's crew. I mean, it's so big, and they've traveled so many of these seas and lands together. It must've been a blast. The corny jokes, the cheesy pick-up lines, the clubs, the alcohol, the drugs, the mayhem, oh the sweet deliciously decadent chaos that comes with anarchy and a taste of freedom.

Well, honey, that's become my cup of tea.

And boy, am I ready to drink it up.

* * *

"Hey, Ace?"

"Hm. What's on your mind, Rosie?"

"What's it like, being with Whitebeard and Co.?"

Smiling a big ol' Cheshire Cat grin, Ace replies eagerly, "I never thought you'd ask! Oh Rosie, it's so much fun. We're the biggest family you could ever imagine. Some of us are related too, y'know? It's fantastic. The . . . togetherness and the cooperation, the true brotherhood of a pirate family, it's unreal. And the sights. Oh, the sights, Rosie! You're gonna love 'em! We'll see them together, okay?"

In my little mini bliss, I imagine this life. And I can't even fathom being happier. Everything just seems to scream out in joy.

"You promise, Ace? You and me?"

"Rosie, Rosie, Rosie, you callin' me a liar? 'Course I promise. I'll take ya anywhere ya wanna go."

"Good. That's what gents are supposed to do. Even in their ridiculous cowboy attire, which still perplexes the people they talk to to this very same day."

"Haha, thank . . . HEY!"

* * *

Ace can eat enough food for like a billion people.

Or more.

I'm not even kidding.

He consumed so much of everything. I lost count after twelve plates of whatever he ate because he inhaled it.

I could barely manage to even eat one plate of food; there was so much on it. Just_ that one plate alone, _and yet Ace could eat an irrevocably large and quite possibly disgusting amount, so much so that in fact, I fear that the food will one day be regurgitated all over, and it'll probably end up being on me!

Smirking to myself in dismay, and minor disgust just envisioning the outcome of Ace's possible demise, I hear a bang.

A loud one at that.

"Ace . . . !"

Ace had a moment of narcolepsy and just landed right into his bowl of soup. _Fantastic._

* * *

Take a moment and think of how hard you could possibly troll a group of unsuspecting townspeople and then multiply it by ten.

That's where I sat.

It takes a troll to troll. (Now, if only I were an actual Troll, like in Homestuck. Heads would really start rolling.)

Now, the trolling began because I acted as though I'd never heard of anything wrong with Ace and that he'd just, "Randomly passed out in a moment's notice. It was such a fluke."

The townspeople were so concerned.

They thought he had died eating some . . . 'desert strawberry' or some random pathetically named fruit from God knows where. Ironically, it's not even a strawberry. It's a freaking spider.

Seriously, people, fruit and spiders do not go. Fruit and snakes, maybe. I'll grant ye that one, but spiders, get outta here.

Anyways, the amount of, "My condolences," and "I'm so sorry for your loss," were unbelievable. I was trying so hard, so desperately hard to repress that damn smirk, but God, did it feel good in a horribly horrible way.

After the last person said their grievances, Ace woke up. Naturally.

I'm still dying.

I mean, is this sadism? I don't know. But that literally was the most amazing thing to do.

It just seemed so . . . _right._

You must have been there at least _once_ in you lifetime, correct?

* * *

Meanwhile, Smoker the White Hunter wearing a large thick white and blue specialist Marine jacket, which was kept open, with greenish fur lining the neck, wrists and hem. Many cigars are strapped to his jacket, which bears the kanji for "justice".

He and his crew of Marines slowly approached the restaurant in search of Monkey D. Luffy's whereabouts.

"Men, he likes food, especially meat. So, where do you look for an idiot with a bottomless pit of a stomach?"

One of Smoker's men replied, "A restaurant?"

"Exactly. Tashigi?"

"Yes?"

"Point me in the direction of the nearest restaurant."

"Of course."

* * *

Who knew that instead of Luffy, he'd find Mister Ace and I instead? Just us, snacking away, and trolling with young, innocent people's minds.

* * *

"Ace, that was amazing. Literally, the best thing I've ever seen. You should've seen their reactions!"

"Rosie, come on. It wasn't _that_ funny."

"Yes, yes it was."

Upon giggling for a little bit longer, it seemed the air around us, and the restaurant itself, was consumed in a dark and vengeful aura.

Turning around to face the entrance, a presence I never expected stopped Ace and my conversation dead in its tracks.

_Oh. My. Fucking._

"Smoker . . ."

* * *

"The Fire-Fist Ace and the Oh-So Wonderfully Missing Renegade, Miss Rosalie Cass. What a pleasure. It must be my lucky day."

I'm going to be sick.

I hate him.

I think Ace does too. Or not, I'm not sure, quite frankly. He's almost as good as I am at rocking that poker face. He's a pro.

"If it isn't Smoker. What're ya here for?"

"To capture you two, you pirate scum. And you, Rosalie, for turning tail and running with a pirate. You thought nothing of the consequences, and now you're in for it."

Okay, really? Because my uncle gave the same speech, and Ace and I have been rocking this whole: "On the run" pirate thing since the get-go.

"I-We're not scared, Smoker. Never have, never will be."

Ace smirks and nods in assent.

As the mood intensifies and looks look like they're ready to kill, a minor setback throws of this delicious stalemate.

That setback being:

Monkey D. Luffy.

* * *

A/N: And there it is.

I hope you liked it.

Happy Thursday.

Your week is almost over!


	12. Wow, He's YOUR Brother?

So . . . For one, I'm proceeding to write this chapter while:

Painting my nails

Feigning of sleep deprivation

Snapchatting

Eating ice cream

Bear with me.

-For two, my lack of updating has been due to a retreat that lasted eight crazy hours today, so I wasn't home, and I had to wake up super early and everything.

It's been really busy with the end of the third quarter for school as well.

I wasn't ignoring you guys, or the story.

-For three, I'd like to give a lovely shout out to all of my followers for obviously following me:

CallmeEevee, HoneyGrl, NamikazeMia, Outcast001, Pesephone-De-Nae, ReMiNiScEnTDrEaMs, SleepAroundTheClock, Traffy, leroalice and mittensx7768.

You guys are cool.

And so is the fact that my readers have almost gotten me to 1,000 views.

I literally love ALL of you.

Please, give yourselves a round of applause, or a pat on the back or . . . a bowl of ice cream. Like myself.

Anyways, happy reading.

I hope you enjoy!

Ace, Smoker, Luffy and co. and One Piece all belong to Oda.

* * *

Chapter 11: Wow, He's YOUR Brother?

* * *

Smoker's not exactly after us per say, and instead he's after Ace's brother.

Either way, this predicament actually sucks.

I'm not even going to try and kid on this one.

My question is, though, is why he's after Luffy?

I mean, Luffy's bounty is pretty high; I'll give him that, but still. To get on Smoker's hit list like that, ouch.

I would know.

* * *

"As long as I'm a Marine and you're a pirate, I cannot let you, or Rosalie, for that matter, go."

"That's such a pathetic reason! You need to chill out man."

'_Ace, just because it's Smoker doesn't mean that we can just provoke him. He's still a Marine.'_

Grimacing in frustration at Ace's antics, the three of us fail to realize the insanity about to follow:

"ROCKET!"

In the split second I took to blink, a kid with a straw hat knocked, or should I say cannoned, Smoker into Ace leading to a ricochet of both walls and people tumbling through at least five buildings.

"WOOHOO! A restaurant! Oh my gosh, I'm starving."

The kid, who actually seems to be my age, sits down and begins to eat.

Eat after blasting two extremely strong, threatening and at times, terrifyingly scary people.

I don't know if I should respect him, or admonish him for his absolute bogus and unbelievable idiocy.

Looking over in awe, legit awe, I ask, "Who . . . who are you?!"

Giving me a glance while continuously stuffing an outrageous amount of meat into his mouth, he remarks, "My name's Luffy. Monkey D. Luffy. You?"

Hold. The. Fuck. Up.

Shut. The. Front. Door.

This . . . menace to society and all who live in that society is Ace's _brother._

The "wonderful, loving and amazing" brother we've been looking for?!

No way in hell.

What sorcery is this?

Is this karma?

Has karma finally gotten the best of me?

Fuck.

After having my mental breakdown, I realize Luffy had actually asked me a question.

"Oh . . . Sorry. Me? I'm Rosalie Cass."

"So, you want some meat?"

M-m-meat? _'He just asked me about meat. Where in the hell is Ace?'_

"Um . . . no. And honestly, you do know you probably shouldn't be eating that right? Because, I mean, you just punched Smoker into like, five houses. I'm pretty sure he's going to massacre you."

"Yeah? Why's tha-"

"STRAWHATTTT!"

'_Whoop. And there it is.'_

"Stop eating. I'm going to catch you today."

At this bold, extremely bold, accusation from Smoker, Luffy dashes straight out the door.

Well.

I'd like to say he just "dashed" out the door; however, there was a bit, a _teensy tiny bit_, of a catch.

The freaking kid drags me with him.

* * *

Note to self, to readers, to humanity and to every other sane person that isn't Luffy:

Never ever in a million bajillion years, _ever _run_ with a man made of rubber._

First of all, Luffy paid no attention whatsoever to pedestrians. Like, hello? They're everywhere. So, let's run into them?

I think NOT, Luffy.

God.

Second of all, Tashigi. The chick's freaking insane.

The sword came out and all of a sudden Luffy and I, unfortunately, are thrown onto the roof.

Where did all these sorcerers come from?

And then to top it all off, naturally we have Smoker running around and ordering his men to, "Comb all the corners of town and find Strawhat's crew." All the while, Smoker also happens to be fighting with his Devil-Fruit.

I can't even deal right now.

Is Ace even alive right now?

Because I could seriously use him.

Like, my arm, yeah that little thing that hangs down on my right side, also mirrored on the left? Yeah, that thing? It's being pulled at such a harsh angle, I might never see it again. Or even have the wonderful ability to use it again as I've lost ALL feeling in my arm.

_ACE. SO not funny anymore._

* * *

Meanwhile, at the Town Limits of Nanohana:

"HIDE!"

"What? Why Vivi?"

"Marines? Why are the here? Did they find a pirate or something?"

In horror, Zoro, Vivi and the rest of the crew look on to find their captain, and me, are being followed by a horde of brainwashed Marines who love listening to Smoker.

How we even got over here is beyond me . . .

"There's the Strawhat Crew!"

'_I'm not even a part of this!'_

In frustration I look back and witness Smoker, giving us his oh, so, soo lovely 'White Blow'.

However, it never hits.

A low voice grumbles out, "Cut it out."

In the surrounding area of smoke and fire, I realized that Ace actually came to the rescue.

Oh, wow.

Yay.

I think.

Now all you have to do is remove your insanely bizarre and freakishly fast brother from my person. Thanks.

Ace continues, "You make be 'smoke,' but I'm 'fire.' Your powers honestly don't stand a chance against mine."

Eh, well, that's pretty much an oxymoron.

Also, I mean, you guys are honestly balanced based off of that mentality, but sure. Whatever makes you happy.

Currently, I'm not one to judge.

"ACE?!"

Ace gives his little brother a nice big smile, "You haven't changed a bit, Luffy."

* * *

Aw. Brotherhood.

Something I wouldn't actually know or understanding.

How . . . enlightening.

* * *

And so ends this section of Ace's and my journey consisting of just us, at least for the moment.

* * *

A/N: And there it is. One of the hopeful three chapters I'm going to attempt to post by tomorrow.

I hope you enjoyed.

Reviews are always welcome, of course.

Happy Caturday!


	13. That's One Heck of a Crew

Ah, the reviews and the views.

I'm crying.

The list of followers and favorites continues to grow.

Please understand you guys are making me cry.

I couldn't be happier. xD

Please, enjoy and keep reading.

As a side note, after yesterday, I slept in really late.

Then, I realized I had an essay and this little project thing to do.

I'm sort of a queen at procrastination, so the past couple of chapters just haven't fit my time slot.

However, I've found the time, just now, so I shall write. And you all shall read.

As a second side note, I'll keep more to the manga side of Ace's story, so Rosie and Ace won't go on a little desert trip with them, I know. I know. It's sad.

As usual, all characters belong to Oda, besides Miss Rosie.

* * *

Chapter 12: That's One Heck of a Crew

* * *

"_Running is the greatest metaphor for life, because you get out of it what you put into it."_

Well, Oprah, _sweetheart,_ I think your definition of the enjoyment of running is a bit flawed.

I mean, if running is the greatest metaphor of life, then what the heck is the metaphor for being dragged by a mental, Straw-hatted, seventeen year old pirate whilst running?

Because, if somehow I'm supposed to put effort into not going with the flow, Luffy may kill me on accident.

So, no thanks, Oprah. Nice try.

* * *

"Man! I never thought I'd meet Ace here!"

"Luffy, whilst running and suffocating my arm, as well as damaging the blood flow, I'd really love it if you'd _focus on the damn path instead of reminiscing._ Thanks."

Luffy doesn't even look fazed.

Naturally, I'm stuck with the immature one of the brothers.

There better not be another one.

Looking back, I realized Ace is actually a pretty cool brother figure.

* * *

"_Well, we can't talk like this, Luffy! You guys run, including you, Rosie. I'll catch up to you."_

_At this comment, Ace gives me a knowing smirk, understanding the stress he's given me, leaving me with strangers and struggling to survive Luffy's unknown wrath. _

_His eyes say the words I needed to hear: "You'll be fine, Rosie. I'll be fine."_

_I breathe a little easier._

"_I need to stay here and stop these guys for you. GO!"_

_Luffy tugs me, full steam. _

"_Let's go!"_

* * *

Luffy pulled me all the 'merry' way to the Going Merry.

Let me just take a moment to say that upon evaluation, Luffy's crew may be just as crazy as Luffy himself.

However, they're family.

I can respect that.

There's Luffy's First Mate, Zoro, also commonly known as "Pirate Hunter Zoro". I found that to be really ironic. He's a tall and muscular with lightly tanned skin. He carries three swords with him, bundled up with a green haramaki over his right hip, allowing him to easily draw them with his left hand, which is, in my opinion, awesome. He has three identical gold earrings on his left earlobe and a black bandanna tied around his left bicep.

'_He looks tough. Stronger than his captain. And scarier.'_

Next, there's Sanji. He's the chef of the Strawhats, which is a pretty cool occupation. Knowing the inner klutz I am, the probability of me burning the boat, over actually cooking food is so great, my own father hired a personal chef for us, specifically when he went and left for business.

So, yeah, I respect Sanji.

He's a slim, muscular, and long-legged with blond hair. His golden locks are brushed over the left side of his face. What are so perplexing about Sanji's face are his eyebrows. Both form a spiral but at different ends. His right eyebrow forms a spiral at the outer end, while his left eyebrow forms a spiral at the inner end. They're definitely weird.

Then there's Nami. Her nickname is the "Cat Burglar" Nami and she navigates the Strawhats. She's what appears to be a normal-sized and slim girl, with orange hair and light brown eyes.

'_She's really pretty. I like navigating, and maps.'_

There's Chopper. He's a toddler-sized reindeer, and a doctor, who was also a former human. That's actually pretty cool. He came from Drum Island, so he must have just joined Luffy before we got here.

'_He's really, really cute. Like a little stuffed animal cute. Dwah~'_

Last, but certainly not least, is Usopp who turns out to be the Strawhat's sniper. Usopp is slim, and somewhat dark-skinned with medium-length black curly hair and a long nose.

'_He's kinda rocking that whole 'Pinocchio' thing, not even going to lie.'_

As a whole, they truly are the epitome of a motley crew.

And then there's the traveling companion, (Ha, sounds like Doctor Who) Vivi, with lovely flowing blue hair and a bright smiling face. Turns out she's royalty.

There's literally every type of person on this ship. It's actually wonderful. And weird.

But I like 'em. Insanity and all.

* * *

Anyways, upon reaching the ship, the shouting of the anxious and distraught crew mates began.

"Brother?! That guy back there was your brother?!"

"Yup, he's my brother."

Zoro looks complacent with the information given, "Well, it's not shocking you have a brother. But why is he here in the Grand Line?"

"He's a pirate. He's looking for the One Piece, like me. Ace is three years older than I am, so he left the island before me."

Nodding in understanding, Sanji asks, "But what are the odds of both of you eating a Devil-Fruit?"

"I know! I was so surprised too! Ace is really strong! Right?"

At this, I realize Luffy's looking at me to answer, while still, yes, _still_, crushing my poor wrist.

"Yeah, Ace is pretty tough. I haven't seen an actual fight with him just yet, but I can tell."

"Wait a second, WHO ARE YOU?"

'_Your captain's weird. Sheesh. Don't look at me like this is my fault that I just 'happened' to precariously end up on your ship.'_

Instead of letting me handle my own question, Luffy takes over. Again.

"This is Ace's friend. They're traveling together."

How he knows this fact is beyond me. There must've been some brotherly telepathy going on back at the restaurant because I surely didn't hear or see anything about us together.

"Though, I could beat him now. Sorry, Ace's friend, he's no match for me."

'_Right. And I'm the Pirate King.'_

Suddenly, that familiar tenor that comes from nowhere came. Thank goodness.

"Just who can you beat?"

Ace sprang from one side of the boat onto the side of the deck, right by my side.

"ACEE!"

"Yo! Hey guys, thanks for taking care of my little brother."

"So why ya here, Ace?"

"Didn't you get the message Rosie and I sent in Drum Island?"

"Drum?"

"Ah, looks like we met him by chance, eh, Rosie?"

"Guess so Ace, guess so."

"Hey, Luffy, you're hurting Rosie's wrist. Think you could let go?"

"Oh, whoopsies. Sorry, Rosie."

Now you'd let go. Of course.

"Anyways, I'm glad I could find you guys. I figured I should meet up with you guys, now that Luffy's got a bounty and all. Wanna join Whitebeard's Pirate Crew? Rosie, here, has joined me just recently. You guys would be a nice addition."

Please say no, Luffy, please. Stay . . . just stay where you are.

"No way!"

_'Praise. The. Lord.'_

"Ahaha, just thought I'd ask."

Usopp looks over at Ace in astonishment. "You're from the Whitebeard Pirates? So that mark on your back, it's real?"

Ace looks so blissful for a second, I was shocked. He must really love that old coot, Whitebeard.

"Yes, it's my pride and joy. Whitebeard is the greatest pirate I've ever known. I want to make him the Pirate King, not you Luffy."

"That's okay, Ace. I'll just fight him."

You? Fight him? Aceee, how are you guys brothers? Seriously, now, what sorcery, hypocrisy, miracle, and any other phenomenon under the sun is this?

"Do you guys want some tea? I'll be happy to make some," Sanji offers us, rather politely, unlike his . . . captain. I swear that's not his role.

"Nah, don't worry about us. We'll be here only a minute or so more."

Oh, will we really now, Ace?

"The Marines aren't after us anymore?"

Ace grins, "Nope. I lost them for you. Happy sailing."

Ace, really? What can you not do?

"Oh, here. I wanted to give this to you."

Ace throws Luffy a little piece of paper.

"Huh?"

"Always keep it with you and never lose it."

'_It's a piece of paper?'_

"It's a piece of paper?"

God, Luffy, get some originality. That was totally all my thought.

"Yup, it'll lead us back to each other."

Um, now you're spouting nonsense, Ace. Not cool, man. I'm thinking that you're being influenced by this menace.

"Woww . . ." Wow, Luffy, that's all you got?

"Don'tcha' want it?"

"'Course I do. I'm just confused is all."

"Having a dumb, confused, and little younger brother makes an older brother like me worry. He probably gives you guys a lot of trouble. Please take care of him for me."

_'Dwah~ Ace! That was so sentimental.'_

Smiling about this loving moment, I completely missed the fact that Ace was ready to go. Roughly grabbing me, (Seriously, what is with the 'Roughhousing Rosalie' thing?) Ace throws me over his shoulder and jumps on his jet ski.

"You're leaving already?"

"Yeah. I came only to deliver that, Luffy. Rosie and I'll be chasing a major criminal. He's killed a crew mate of mine, and for that, he must pay. I'm the commander, so it's my duty to Whitebeard to finish him off. If it wasn't for that, I probably wouldn't have met up with you guys here. Luffy, the next time we meet, it'll be at the Pirate's Summit."

Waving him off, Ace and I drive the Jet Ski away, me now comfortably holding on to his side, rather than seesawing over his shoulder blade.

However, five ships came up to get us.

And this is where I freaking panic.

Without a warning, or even a care in the world, Ace propels himself into the air, which inevitably throws the Jet Ski, and me, across the water to the other side. Holding on for dear life, whilst getting splashed with water, I can only witness the feat Ace just pulled off.

With one Flame Fist, Ace destroyed all five ships and landed on back down, right next to me.

"So, Rosie, where're we going next, ya think?"

I can only shake my head in awe.

* * *

A/N: I wanted three chapters by the weekend, but I could only, barely manage this one.

So, I'm two for three.

Not too shabby.

I hope you liked it.

Now, I can actually divulge into Ace's Great Blackbeard Search, which will be fun.

Reviews are always welcomed.


	14. What's this?

So . . . school's been a series of highs and lows lately, meaning: I've been busy.

We've had this crazy hard test that no one seems to be able to take. And then there's been two speeches back-to-back. Logic, of course.

So, I've had a crazy school schedule alone.

And then there's the fact my friend's birthday was yesterday, so, of course, we were celebrating.

However, through all of that, here I am now, and here you are.

Together, we're a magical combination of a writer and readers, so hopefully we can continue to make this story as magical as it's been.

And I'm soooo sorry. (And that's NOT an April Fool's Joke. I am sorry.)

I'll try and update more. :3

Ace belongs to Oda. Rosie belongs to meeee.

* * *

Chapter 13: What's this?

* * *

Contrary to public belief, traveling can be very dull.

In fact, it's so dull, I'm shocked, so very shocked, that before Ace found me, he traveled alone.

I'd have gone mental. Without anyone to talk to, any music, any hope in the world, what do you truly have to live for?

The things I have to think about probably would just be escalated to a point of unbelievable stress and discomfort if I were to just sit alone.

There'd probably be some sighs, groans and later, screams of the utmost frustration.

Then again, this is coming from a quitter like me.

Either way:

What a guy.

* * *

Lost in my thoughts and my secret praise for Ace, I begin humming.

_Where are we? What the hell is going on?_

_The dust has only just begun to fall,_

_Crop circles in the carpet, sinking, feeling._

_Spin me 'round again and rub my eyes._

_This can't be happening._

_When busy streets amass with people_

_Would stop to hold their heads heavy._

I pause, pensive about the lyrics of Imogen Heap's "Hide and Seek".

Sometimes, song lyrics mesmerize me, and other times, they make me nervous. Or sad. Okay, really sad. It doesn't help when I listen to those old, sad rock songs about losing a loved one.

Otherwise, it's that folk music that just kills me.

Those harmonics, those haunting melodies never to be forgotten.

Ahh, well. Such is the life of a musician.

"Why'd you stop singing?"

Oops. That little melody was sung out loud a little too loudly for a certain someone to hear. The dilemma of traveling with a partner, I suppose.

"Sorry, Ace. I was just thinking."

"You know, I really do like your voice, Rosie. You should sing a lot more. It'll make our ride across the sea much more fun."

Ace gives me a dazzling, happy gaze and I can't help but smile.

I love that smile.

Who knew a smile could be warm and gentle, loving and carefree, silly and serious? Ace's smile is so . . . _Ace._ Every facet of his life, the highs and lows seem to be present on those lips, and in his soft, bright eyes.

". . . Rosie?"

Flinching, I blush lightly. I would block him out to think about his lips of all things.

"Hm?"

"I'd hate to break your 'pensive' mood, but I need to tell you something. The road we travel on from here . . . It's going to get pretty intense at times. It's practically the world's most unforsaken road, probably ever. Are you prepared for the onslaught of challenges of facing ridiculously strong pirates and Marines?"

Aw, shucks. I had a feeling this 'talk' was coming. It's only normal when thinking on a rational level. I mean, Ace is going after a world class criminal. This 'chase' isn't exactly a walk in the park, though sometimes the easy way out is welcomed at a much higher esteem than the hard one.

"Well . . . I mean, I've got you, and literally nowhere else to go . . . so I have to be kind of ready, don't I?"

Shrugging, I give Ace the most indecisive and passive look in the world.

Damn Capricorn instincts. We're amazing and yet so passive at times. It's so hard to just say what we want.

"Rosalie, I'm serious."

"Ace, what do you want from me? I mean, I know nothing about what's next in our adventure together. The Marines, the pirates, even the criminal you're after! What am I supposed to say?"

"Well, you could've just said that. I can never tell how you feel most of the time. Is it so hard to trust me still?"

". . . _Yeah._ Yeah, you know what? It actually is, Ace. Here we are you and I, two strangers, two kids really, trying to figure out their lives in the middle of nowhere. Kids our age shouldn't have to deal with the things, the ideas, and the stereotypes that plague our minds. And instead, here you are, Ace, allowing yourself to just go off and do things, the one kid who doesn't feel the need to tell me his full name, the one out to go kill some bad guy that'll probably end up killing you and me. And you know what, Ace? You know more about my life than anyone, and yet you can't tell me the simplest things. Throwing me over your shoulder and laughing in that silly jovial way of yours isn't going to handle _anything._"

I pause, trying to catch my breath and control my turmoil of emotions that seem to be ricocheting all over my mind. I sigh out of anger, which seems to be the only thing calming down my feelings. All I'm left with is defeat.

"God. What I'm trying to say is . . . I'm scared dammit. I haven't felt this terrified in years."

* * *

Ace hasn't looked at me for a solid three minutes.

I think so anyway.

Not like I've been counting or anything.

I hate opening up about how I really feel. And then of course, when I do, Ace decides not to speak to me about the emotions he so desired.

Not cool.

Assuming the worst is flashing through his head at the moment, I look away.

I thought I'd feel like I asked the priest to absolve my sins after Reconciliation, or maybe when I told the truth to my father about a lie I had kept for so long, but instead I just continue to feel guilt. Guilt for yelling at Ace and guilt for not being strong enough to handle the things he needs me to do.

All he's asking for his some help, and I'm not even good enough to give him that.

When Red told me to take the leap of faith, I thought he meant that that initial leap would automatically make me stronger, both mentally and physically.

However, the entire journey itself has, it seems, opened wounds I forgot, or never knew, existed. And these wounds, hurt. They cut so deep into my flesh and burn, making me writhe, metaphorically of course, in a pain so great, it hurts to even just fathom bearing it.

I don't want to grow up. And at the same time, I want to be something, someone for the world.

A game changer.

A Marine's daughter who became a pirate and changed the world and just did something right for _once._ Be it that I solved the answer to finding world peace, or even just leading a revolution. I'd be happy just doing something big.

The problem is:

How can I do that when I can't even trust the one person in the world who actually cares?

Truth be told, how does one proceed to change the future if they can't even manage to rewrite their own past?

* * *

Wallowing in my manic depression, I fail to notice Ace turn to me.

Better yet, I fail to notice his arm reach out and grab me.

In fright, I jump, startled at the warmth of his touch against my ice cold skin.

"Ace, what're you-"

In this one moment, my relationship with Ace changed.

For better or for worse, the world may never know.

But in that moment, I can never describe how it felt to be in my own shoes and see what I saw, and just recognize the blissful energy of the moment.

Ace, in all his glory, Ace, the Fire-Fist Ace, Ace, the brother and the son.

Ace.

My Ace.

He . . . He kissed me. 3

* * *

A/N: Happy April Fool's Day, kids.

This means that April's officially here. Yay.

Maybe this also means I'll start updating more.

Like . . . maybe another chapter, even today.

Hm . . .

Reviews, as always, are welcome, and greatly appreciated.


	15. Emotions Are Strange

So, I just got two totally helpful guest reviews.

I'm going to clarify a lot in this wonderful little Author's Note up top.

So, to the Guest Reviewer "Itachi", first off, thank you so much for all of your compliments. They're always so welcome.

However, your questions totally need answers. And so, I got you.

Rosalie is a prodigy, and she can fight. I will later prove that in the story. However, much like me, Rosalie is a rather complex kid. She has such a lack of a self-confidence and drive that her fighting is so hard for her to compute outside of say, her sparring with Red, for lack of a better example. Her comfort zone is so small she barely likes to fight because she feels she's going to lose.

As for Sanji, I know. I kind of spaced on his whole female-craze for a bit and forgot to put that it. Sorry! I know how much everyone loves the whole Sanji-perverted female obsession. Forgive me?

Eh, as for dialogue, I will totally work on getting Rosie to talk more. Looking back on it, without her speaking, it's a little weird with her just 'being' there. So, I'll try and open her up. It's hard being a shy person to write about a shy person, if you get me.

As for a separate fanfic about Rosie meeting the Whitebeard Pirate's before Thatch's and Ace's death, and all? I'd be totally game to write that. Maybe on the side while I'm at a block with this story, or even after this one. I don't know, but I'd love to honestly.

As for the kiss, yay! I know. However, her meaning of saying, "My Ace," will be explained more in this chapter. It's more of a sentimental thing with Rosalie and her mentality. She isn't aware of her 'feelings' for Ace yet, unfortunately. She's kind of a blonde to emotions. She has yet to grow into them.

* * *

Now, this next part is for everyone.

I'm such weird updater.

When it comes to school, some days I have no homework, other days I have a billion projects. Lately, I haven't updated because the term just ended and I had so many tests and quizzes. My grades were on the line.

I'm wondering if you guys could please tell me a day you'd like an update? Like, every Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday, maybe? I mean, I'm open, and I'll try to follow a schedule, if you guys could just tell me when.

* * *

After that extremely long opening, for lack of updating, I'm going to treat you all with a second update!

Happy happy reading!

* * *

Chapter 14: Emotions Are Strange

* * *

What is an emotion? By definition, it's a natural instinctive state of mind deriving from one's circumstances, mood, or relationships with others.

However, as a person with seriously deprived emotions after all these years, my mind could not even compute the events that just happened.

I mean, did I seriously just think to myself, "My Ace?!"

Sometimes, I can't even begin to imagine what's wrong with me.

How does one just kiss, I mean literally KISS another person after they've just poured another heaping of raw emotion onto them?

My mind's racing, my heart's beating at the speed of sound and all I can think of is the fact I probably look like the tomato sauce Red uses to make my food.

This is ridiculous, embarrassing and detrimental, honestly, to my health. If I were to look this up in a book, it'd probably tell me I'm about to have an aneurysm and die from shock or mental abuse.

Who knows, surely not me.

* * *

Ace kissed me for a standing thirty seconds, which I believe he thinks were long enough to shut me up and quell my fears.

However, in retrospect, he just scared me more.

I actually feel nauseas. I don't like these . . . these emotions.

I don't understand them.

At all.

"Rosalie . . . I'm sorry. I kind of lost it for a second, y'know, in the heat of the moment." Ace rubs the back of his head as though that motion is going to calm his 'emotions'.

At this point, all I can say is God only knows.

I physically cannot speak.

My mouth's open, but there aren't words coming out. It's driving me crazy.

"Rosalie, I understand if you're mad at me. I mean, I totally just broke whatever means of trust, no matter how marginally small it was. I won't know unless you tell me. There's just so much going on in my head right now, and your lashing out pushed me right over the edge."

'_Come on, Rosalie. Please speak, or forever hold the peace you _don't _have at the moment.'_

In spite of myself, my voice comes out as a croak. A very unattractive and mildly creepy croak, mind you.

I feel like that was Karma's way of saying, "Hey, Ace. That's who you just smothered your lips with. Yeah, her. That little thing that just croaked."

I'm so prepared to just crawl into myself and die.

"A-a-ace."

Clearly my throat, I try again.

"Ace. I'm . . . I don't think I'm mad. Yet, at least. I don't really know how I feel. I'm confused. And your kiss just totally exemplified every unconfident and unprepared emotion in my entire body."

Looking him dead in the eye, I don't allow him to speak his mind just yet.

"I'm not ready. And honestly, I might never be. I'm a broken package, something you can't fix. I'm almost more or less something you can't change. So don't."

Slapping him in the face probably would've done the same amount of damage that that comment just did.

Poor Ace.

That poor bloody fool, getting stuck with a nutcase like me.

He probably should have just stayed traveling alone.

"Rosalie, no, Rosie. You, and you alone, are my friend and my companion. I, quite frankly, don't even think I was ready. We don't need that type of relationship just yet. Even if, perhaps, deep down, I want it. Perhaps, I even crave it. And it's only been a mere couple of days of traveling, but with you, I've already experienced things most people wouldn't have. Guys, like Sanji, on Luffy's ship, ogling at you, they make me jealous. It's kind of pathetic really. I'm sorry. I'll . . . tone it down."

What is love? I mean, I know it's a feeling of strong or constant affection for a person, but what is that feeling? I haven't had it in so long, that this conversation isn't just foreign; it's utterly and completely alien.

And yet, he keeps apologizing. Why? He didn't do anything.

I'm the psycho who shoves people away.

And here I am, about to do it again:

"Ace, please stop apologizing. I . . . think I'm over it. So, we can just move on. We'll just . . . start over. And take it . . . really, really slow. Like, before today. For example, I'm Rosalie Cass, daughter of the Marine Commodore Mikael Cass and katana prodigy who has yet to show her skills. And you?"

"Rosalie . . ." Ace breaks off, realizing that it's probably not worth discussion. "Miss Rosie, I am Portgas D. Ace, the one and only Fire-Fist Ace and the Second Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates. Here I am, at your service."

Smiling his usual smile, I can't help but feel funny.

Crossing the point of no return and then awkwardly looking back at it, as though the past will return is the most complicated and unnerving feeling in the entire universe.

And I think Ace might just be worse off than I, as he knows the fact that he can't have the one thing he wants:

The girl he's traveling with.

* * *

All my life, I've heard the phrase: "Silence is golden."

Sure, silence is golden when desired, or when it's sought for.

However, the concept of having and maintaining silence for an entire three-day long boat trip to a random island . . .

Well, that concept straight up sucks.

I wanted to talk to Ace, and then every time I opened my mouth to do so, I saw him, in front of my face, looking into my eyes, on my lips. It knocked whatever resolve I had straight out.

Whenever it was meal time, Ace would nonchalantly grab his pack and take out whatever he planned on giving us, making sure to ration it out wisely. Naturally, I wouldn't have realized that while I'm gazing around towns and such, Ace is actually being the adult and purchasing food.

Typical me.

Eating in silence is just as creepy, if not creepier, because in all truth, you're not eating in silence. You can hear the significant other chewing.

I really did not want to eat after that.

And don't even get me started on sleeping.

My insomnia and I had gotten so used to having Ace to coddle us to bed and keep us warm just by staying by his side that due to our 'incident', neither of us even wanted to be within reaching distance. And unfortunately, the Jet Ski is only so big.

Knowing my luck, the minute Ace and I were separated, the nightmares decided to reap me all of the wonderful missed night sleeps I had gained over the past couple of days.

These nightmares were some of the darkest, the blackest, and the vilest and downtrodden I've ever laid my eyes on.

All I wanted in the world was, truth be told, Red.

Only Red, with his goofy facial expressions and wise words, could guide me out of the hole I dug for myself.

Only Red could hold me close at night and rock me to sleep, telling me sweet nothings, simplistic enough to keep my nightmares at bay.

And only, only Red could wake me up and cook me a meal to my liking. Golden brown chocolate chip pancakes, with the most luscious maple syrup and a glass of cool milk.

Looking into the night sky, I salivate at the idea of good, non-rationed food, over a comfortable meal with someone I'd actually missed so much.

'_I wonder if Ace has some paper and a pencil. I'd really like to write something.'_

Whenever I'm angry or distressed, or even sad for that matter, I'd write poetry, and I'd feel better.

Rummaging through the front pocket of his bag, I find both a small black graphite pencil and a sheet of paper.

I begin to write.

_Alone in the Darkness_

_By: Rosalie Cass_

_The abyss_

_It swallows me_

_It holds me close_

_Never letting go_

_Never relinquishing its hold on my scrawny arms_

_On my tiny waist_

_I can't breathe_

_But it doesn't care_

_I scream_

_But no one hears_

_I cry_

_But I can only feel the tears themselves_

_Why?_

_Why am I always alone?_

_And why?_

_Why am I always in the wrong?_

_The abyss_

_The dark, cold abyss_

_It's so cold_

_My soul_

_It feels its pressure_

_And it hurts_

_I'm cold_

_But there no longer is any warmth_

_And so I sit_

_In the abyss_

_Cold, dark_

_And alone._

* * *

A/N: And there it is.

Chapter 14 out of who knows how many.

I have an infatuation with poetry. I might actually try and implement that more often.

Hopefully, I've touched on some things I keep leaving out (I'm sorry, I don't mean to).

Reviews are lovely. Thanks!

Happy Tuesday!

I love you guys so very much.


	16. Pirate Royalty

Thanks for all the reviews and views on my latest chapters!

Response time. Yay!

To 'Itachi':

Thank you so much! I am so glad you liked it. Yeah, it's interesting how his relationship with Rosalie has actually played out. Isn't shocking that Ace would remember food of all things? :D

Haha, well I'm glad I could clarify. I felt bad because sometimes I do leave things out, unfortunately. Hm. So, seeing as this is set before the time skip, I'd say Rosalie is 'slightly' better than Zoro at swordsmanship; however, after the time skip, they'd be equal, or he'd even have passed her out in that respect. I'm pumped to write a fight scene with Rosalie, and then I'm nervous. Fights can be rather difficult. I'll do my best when it comes, though. I promise!

Shyness. It can be rough, huh? I'll slowly try and open Rosalie up more as the story progresses.

Okay! I'll try and update on those days, primarily, and if I do find time on other days, I'll update then? Deal?

THREE?! Good luck. I'll pray for you. I'm sure you'll do fine.

I'm so glad you love this chapter! And yes, the quote is now explained. Ta-da~

You thought it was a song! Oh wow. That makes me feel special. I LOVE NEMO. That's one of my favorite Nightwish songs. I will totally try to implement it into this chapter or chapters in the future.

I can't believe you liked my poem so much! Thank you! I'm glad, and anything to Beethoven sounds magical, doesn't it? I'm so happy you liked it. That made my day.

Anyways, I was going to write this chapter sooner, but I was watching the Steins;Gate Movie, which was amazing and then I was watching Benedict Cumberbatch, Matt Smith and David Tennant interviews, which are always just so hilarious.

Here's Chapter 15.

Ace belongs to Oda, Rosalie belongs to me.

* * *

Chapter 15: Pirate Royalty

* * *

How does one move on from the predicament I now face?

I feel like I fractured my relationship with Ace, and even then, I could barely handle a relationship such as that. The fact that . . . Ace likes me in a way so alien that I can't even compute what's actually happening terrifies me.

Is it sad that I can't even get the slightest bit of a handle on my emotions? Or is it pathetic that I can only put them in words on paper rather than out from my own mouth?

I'm truly a hot mess.

* * *

When we got to the next island, I truly had no idea what to expect. All I knew was that I felt ill. All I wanted was a proper resting place, specifically a bed. A nice, soft bed with comfy pillows and downy sheets. My back and shoulders craved a simple break from the harsh, stressful environment I was subdued to for days.

However, Ace made no move – not even a glance – towards an inn, or even a small place of shelter. Instead he left me, literally left me, and walked away with long purposeful strides as though he'd fulfilled one duty and already was prepared to move on to the next.

God did that hurt.

And so here I am, just writing away in my journal, whilst in a tree, which might as well be my only solace in the world. Deep down, you know as well as I do that I need to pursue after Ace, but every time I even attempt to open my mouth, my well of words runs dry.

I've always been depressed, which is unsurprising due to my past, but I think at this stage of my life, this depression is far worse, and far more critical than any other. I'm just so, so _bloody_ sad. It actually hurts me, like my insides are ripping; my heart strings are totally being pulled.

* * *

As I wallow away in my feelings of depravity, an elderly woman, aged in her late nineties if I were to guess, slowly approached the tall tree I had decided to perch myself in. It seems heights always offer a better view of the world for me.

"Young lady, why aren't you going after him?" She asks me, genuinely curious, but with a hit of an admonishing tone.

Now either she's psychic or she's mental. I really hope for the latter so that I can just blame her for being crazy and find a way to escape. However, to my utter disappointment, upon looking into her aged chocolate brown eyes, it appears to be that she's actually a very sane person. Dammit.

Playing it cool, in my opinion, I inquire, "Well, now, whatever do you mean?"

"You know damn well, Rosalie Cass."

Well, what in the actual fuck?

Queue the distressed and thoroughly confused face. Enter fear and distrust.

"You don't know me do you?"

Slightly grinning, I give the old coot her due, "No, should I?"

She smirks a smile that seems to say. "I know something you don't~"

Damn, what is with the elderly always knowing things?

"Ah, Rosalie, I'm your great-aunt."

* * *

Enter Lucy McCallum, a woman battier than a bat out of Hell with one heck of a bite. Not only that, even though it turns out that she's knows who I am through my mother's side of the family, I was right in suggesting that she's a psychic. Lucy actually was able to sense our approach from Alabasta, which can either be taken as really cool and rather epic, or just plain old terrifying. I'm, quite frankly, not even sure myself.

It turns out my adoptive father actually kept in touch with my family members. Especially Lucy. He'd been informing and keeping her posted of all my highs and lows, especially with how I was coping, or should I say, _not_ coping, with my parents' deaths. It's creepy that this kind of scary, wise old coot knows so much about with without an actual confrontation.

* * *

"Would you like some tea?"

We're in her cottage's living room. It's rather large for someone who appears to live alone. It's simple, but has its share of furnishings. Her couches are embroidered with small blue roses, and her rugs are a beautiful royal blue, my favorite shade.

"Yeah, I suppose. Although, I must ask, are we going to talk about my life now? If so, I've already had my uncle, Tom, give me an in depth discussion about what I've screwed up on so far in my life and the 'ridiculous' mistakes I've made. Sorry you're offended by my traveling with a pirate or better yet, technically becoming one. And in all actuality, he can't even stand to look at my face right about now, so I guess I can call it the end of the road. Once again, I've found that I've lost my way."

"Damn, you truly are as blonde as you are stupid, aren't you? How ironic being the 'genius' that you are."

Offended at being so crudely mocked, confused at her question and slightly perturbed at her attitude, I let her go off on a tangent and let her rant. Better to let them go, y'know? Plus, I have the slightest suspicion that this conversation might actually be interesting. It's very slight though.

"You know what your mother did before she went into the Marines?"

Shaking my head, she continues.

"Your mother was a pirate. Both she and her brother were. And I bet you've probably never even heard of this brother?"

"You're lying. I know my mother's entire family. There isn't a pirate out of the entire lot of them."

"And that's where you're wrong. Rosalie, there's an uncle with an entirely different back story not even your adoptive father is aware of. Your uncle, he's only partially blood related to the family, but blood is blood. And it was enough of a bloodline to disgrace him from the family."

"Oh yeah? And what was this pirate's name?"

"Oh, you young things, always the most impatient. I was getting to that."

Taking a nice, slow sip of her chamomile tea, probably as a way to 'teach me a lesson,' she finally drops a bomb I couldn't have even had the slightest idea was coming.

"Your lovely pirating uncle who still sails the seas? Well, he's none other than _the '_Red-Haired' Shanks."

* * *

How can you just drop something like that one me?

I'm already a time bomb ready to go off after the entire Ace situation that I still have no idea how to handle, and then hear you are telling me my half-uncle whom I've never met, nor heard about except for papers of the tales of the things his done in the pirating world, is Shanks, one of the four Yonko.

What kind of life did my parents actually live, especially my mother?

* * *

"Cookie?"

"Are you trying to prolong one of the, possibly, greatest stories I will ever hear in my entire life or what?"

"No cookie then."

"I didn't say I _didn't _want the cookie, I just think you kind of need to start talking."

"So, you want the cookie then?"

Somebody kill her.

This . . . this has passed ridiculous, at least five minutes ago.

Just give me the fucking cookie, woman.

"All right, now that that's been settled, let's begin."

Oh, yes, let's.

"Your mother was a very young, shy child. Many people that lived near her family thought there was something wrong with her. She was so deathly afraid to open up, that it was worse than even pulling teeth. She was so creative. She could paint you the prettiest pictures in the land with colors as vibrant and diverse. The world was her canvas, and she the painter. I'm sure you've seen her works?"

"Your mother was one of twelve, Shanks being the twelfth child, of course. He was the only one your mother would converse with. They both were outsiders amongst a village of insiders. Him with his bright cherry red hair, and your mother with her fear of speaking, they went hand- in-hand. I grew very close with the two of them, that's why I know this."

"When Shanks was ten, he knew that he would never make the cut as a Marine. He always said if things were too much work, there were others far more suited to handle them. Your mother went along with him. On his eighteenth birthday, Shanks and your mother fled the town, preferring to sail the seas. She was only sixteen then."

"I don't know how, when or why, but they eventually split up. Your mother went off, and met your father. She later decided to follow the path of the Marine. And inevitably had the light of her life, that being you. Shanks, on the other hand, went on as a member of the Pirate King's, Gol D. Roger's, crew as a cabin boy and took part in fighting many strong pirates."

"What I find ironic is not the fact that you're here, nor the idea that you went off, just as your mother did, with a boy, this time a stranger for you. No, what surprises and actually astonishes me is the fact that you're traveling with someone very important."

"Why is Ace _that_ important? I mean, I know he's strong and all, but still."

"Because, Ace is the son of Gol D. Roger, the world's Pirate King. The one, the only, the brave and the bold. You're traveling with royalty. Pirate royalty, mind you, but royalty all the same."

* * *

A/N: Here it is. The next installment to my story.

I actually like that my length is slowly increasing as I grow into the story.

I hope you guys enjoyed.

Happy Wednesday. Praise be the week's halfway over.

Reviews welcomed.


	17. Sentimentality

So sorry for not updating yesterday! I had a lovely Biology quiz, and I had to study, which actually paid off rather nicely as I got a 100. So, I hope I made the right choice, though all I wanted to do was write this chapter.

I also had to read Lord of the Flies for English, so that took up my day.

In return for all the lovely reviews and views, I'm going to be a nice, lovely writer and surprise you guys with a present:

I'm going to attempt to write my largest chapter yet! Hopefully around 5,000 or more words, if I can get there. I don't know about you, but it seems that after a while, it gets to be fairly difficult to write a lot. However, I'm going to attempt to go all out on this chapter as a way of Reconciliation for Ace and Rosie, as well as a wonderful Friday gift.

So, in the utmost truth and utter honesty, I hope you all enjoy.

I was really sentimental today, and I've been thinking about things in my life, so there was definitely some inspiration from my life specifically implemented into this chapter. I actually got really emotional just writing this little opening. So, the chapter probably won't be as humorous. But I promise it'll be good.

Read on, lovies.

* * *

Chapter 16: Sentimentality

* * *

By definition, a plot twist is a radical change in the expected direction or outcome of the plot of a novel, film, television series, comic, video game, or other work of narrative. It is a common practice in narration used to keep the interest of an audience, usually surprising them with a revelation. If anything, the story, the ever twisting, turning and quite possibly life-changing story that it was, my great-aunt told me had to have been one of the greatest plot twists the world has seen in a long while. I'd bet my life that the 'Big Guy' up watching the world definitely wanted this event to happen. He's very successful indeed.

Ace isn't just any old pirate, friend or person in the world. In truth, he's a gift, a creation and someone very special. In all honesty, it was a mistake for me to take him, his company and his heart for granted. Ace literally loves me and who I am and yet I couldn't even respond like a normal human being. He was given to me as a present to help guide me, as well as help me grow.

It took me until now to officially realize it. The question is truly whether or not it's too late.

I've missed a lot of boats in my life, metaphorically, of course. But this time, I might actually have a chance to do something right for once.

I don't think I was granted the right to miss this opportunity – not that'd I'd want to.

* * *

"When Shanks took my mother with him, why didn't you stop them?"

Lucy sips her tea with a rather methodical look on her already seldom expressionless face. Her slow, calculating and decisive gaze seems to pierce right through my soul. It's scary how she can just look over at my face, gander into my ever changing eyes and seem to understand me. Maybe it's the perks of being old, or perhaps the gift of wisdom?

"Oh, I wanted to. Truthfully, I was supposed to. I watched over them, I mothered them and smothered them with the goodness only a guardian could supply. However, there was a fire constantly lit in both of their eyes. Fires of angst, excitement, mild anger, utter curiosity and wildness. They were both children in search of something, perhaps adulthood or something as simple as growth; be it growing into the persons they wanted to become or the people they needed to be. Who am I to take away a journey so necessary in one's life? The question is: Did I make the right choice?"

Quizzically glancing at her face, I didn't understand her question. She gave them the chance to be free. Why was that not the right choice?

"I don't understand what you mean? One of the choruses in this song I love goes like this:

_A nightingale in a golden cage_

_That's me locked inside reality's maze_

_Come someone make my heavy heart light_

_Come undone bring me back to life_

_It all starts with a lullaby_

Didn't you release both Shanks and my mother from their golden cages respectively? They escaped from their parents' hold on them to become Marines. Why was that not the right choice?"

"Well, that's easy. Because here you are looking lost, confused and defeated. Shanks was shunned, your mother, abused, and here you are as candid and perfect as can be without a clue in the world. You quit so far ahead that in truth, the race hasn't even started yet. Haven't you ever heard quotes like:

'Age wrinkles the body. Quitting wrinkles the soul,' or 'Pain is temporary. Quitting lasts forever'?

Who are you to stop and quit? What right do you have to let that boy, the Pirate King's own son, walk away? Your mother, that blissfully creative and wonderful child, died for you, Rosalie, you and you alone. You have such big shoes to fill, and here you are singing the blues."

Taking a deep breath, Lucy calms her beating heart. Her pulse had quickened to an exponential rate as she lashed out. It was a frightening sight to see her angry. This anger wasn't something typical. It was pure and just rage. It hurt her to see someone like me giving up.

"If I didn't let the two of them go, you wouldn't be here. You and all your gifts would not even exist. Not only that, your mother and father would be alive, though they probably wouldn't have met. And dear Shanks would not be a Yonko. And yet, here we sit, in my cottage, on the island of Aquae Arnemetiae with a child who's dressed like a dancer in the desert and a brain filled with sweet nothings. We're going to change that, and we're going to change that now, even if it kills me."

And that's what terrified me.

* * *

After Lucy's grandeur of a monologue, I was told by one of her household servants to wash. I guess the Alabastan sand had left me grimy with littered salt particles and the like. Not that I was complaining.

Aquae Arnemetiae, as it would turn out, is a spa island. As its name implies, the island holds some of the world's nicest hot springs. My great-aunt's cottage actually implements a simplistic style of aqueduct that guides the hot water from one of the nearest springs and sends it through the walls into the bathroom. Once there, through a small pipe, it opens into a waterfall-styled tub. It's actually very serene with the shrubs and greenery she felt necessary to place around the room. You could call it being in the tranquility of nature without having to venture outdoors.

The servant, whose name is Anne, had offered to help me undress, to which I simply had to decline. I mean, help is always nice, but I've been on my own for the longest time. Why accept the star treatment now?

Slowly stripping away the skimpy, light clothing that aided me so nicely in Alabasta, I coasted over to the walk-in steps of the pool and gradually lowered myself into the water.

Ah. The water was so delightfully warm. The only thing that I could even depict as an accurate analogy to the water was when you go outside in the freezing cold for the longest time. You decide to play in the snow, yeah? And upon sitting and building a snowman, you realize after a few hours that frostbite has decided it wants to make a home on your fingers. Fabulous. So, instead, one decides to go indoors and drink a nice cup of the delicious hot cocoa with whip cream and fluffy marshmallows. One takes a delightfully slow sip of the said decadent chocolate beverage and the warm liquid immediately warms the frozen bones. That's how the water felt to me. Save for the fact that I wasn't cold. I was just world weary after travel.

Sitting calmly in the placid waters up to my shoulders, I decide to dunk my head under. Taking a deep breath, I lower my head under the hot water, and boy, does it feel amazing. So much stress from my lower neck to my shoulder blades was released. I felt so much looser in those tender areas. I guess I never realized the stress I had literally placed upon my shoulders.

Lifting my head back up, I noticed the vast array of soaps and perfumes, as well as lotions and even bubbles I could use in my bath. I could spend an eternity just picking one! The essence of every single one so wonderfully smelled, I almost got a mild high off of the beautiful emitting odors.

In haste because I knew I would be unable to just decide on one, I did a simple eenie-meenie-minie-mo and picked a (how ironic) rose body soap with a cherry blossom shampoo. God, I smelled amazing, if I do say so myself.

After my lovely bath, I finally left the washroom and noticed that Anne had left a change of clothes for my person. She left me a simplistic pair of sweatpants, colored a light blue, almost a sky blue if you would, as well as a cottoned black shirt with a pair of dark royal blue slippers. Lucy may freak me out, but she knows my style of clothing, that's for sure.

Dressed and ready to go, I prepare myself for round two with my great-aunt.

* * *

Waiting where she last was, I gander around the room. I'd almost just rather have this conversation out instead of having a waiting game.

I whistle a tune out of boredom.

'_Come on, Lucy. I'm petrified over here.'_

"You're really impatient."

In fright, I jump and turn around to face Lucy.

"I'm sorry, I guess. I just thought this was a matter of necessity is all."

"Well, it is. You need to find Ace."

I scoff at her, "You say that like it's the easiest thing in the world. Ace-"

"Ace can't even look at you. I know, Rosalie. Need I remind you we had that conversation?"

". . . No. I'm good."

Smiling, she continues, "You need to change. You need to welcome your fears and embrace them."

"What do you mean?"

"Rosalie, deep down, I know what you're afraid of. You're afraid of yourself. Marianne Williamson once said: 'Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.' You must embrace your inner strength and learn to gain the one thing you lost many years ago."

"That being?"

"_Love._ You've forgotten what that means. You may 'love' your role model, Red. You may 'love' music. You may 'love' that little wolf, Aleu. However, none of those things, no matter how wonderful they are, compare to the love that Ace could give you. Ace has given you a chance, an opportunity, and Rosalie, he's waiting for you to simply grasp it. _He_ will guide you through it all, the love and loss, as well as the highs and lows as the two of you swing to and fro through the world and your lives."

"So, Ace is the answer to my problems?"

"Naturally, Ace is. You've just got to accept it. Are you prepared to do that?"

" . . . God no. I don't even know how to feel about Ace."

"You're lying, again. Yes, yes you do. Open your eyes. Look inside and realize what needs to change. Now go, go and find your friend."

Lucy ushers me out the door and shuts it in my face.

I guess all roads lead to Ace.

I really hope she lets me back in if this plan doesn't work out because . . . well, pathetically speaking, that was a really nice bath.

* * *

I hate looking for people, especially in an unfamiliar place. However, the island was beautiful, so be me lost or not, I could definitely enjoy the sights.

Ace had given no indication to where he was going, but I know he didn't leave.

If only he'd left a sign.

There's so many people and houses and trees. It's hard to focus with so much going on.

And then I sense something in the acute recesses of my mind.

Up on one of the mountainsides was Ace, looking out pensively over the island. If I wasn't as near as I was to the mountain, I probably would've missed him. Something just told me to look up, however. I'm glad I did.

And so, at the foot of this medium sized mountain, I stand. And at the top sits Ace, my friend and someone who loves me.

"_On the mountains of truth you can never climb in vain: either you will reach a point higher up today, or you will be training your powers so that you will be able to climb higher tomorrow."_

I sincerely hope that's true.

Because, here I am, and here is where I need to be.

* * *

I thought that the trek up the mountain was going to be difficult, or at least a pain in the neck. However, I was surprised to find that it sloped at just the right angle that I wasn't going to exert too much energy, nor was I somehow, God forbid, going to hurt myself. There was a nicely mapped out path (Hail whoever made this path for they knew I was directionally challenged) and barely any roots or rocks or cracks in the earth to injure me.

Maybe this really is destiny? Who knows save for our God above?

Progressing at a steady rate, I carefully amble to the top and see Ace sitting just as he was who knows how long ago.

This is it.

Sighing deeply, I mentally prepare myself for a conversation I never thought I'd have.

However, before I could open my mouth, Ace beat me to it.

"Rosie, why'd you follow me?"

Naturally, the first question out of his mouth would be that one.

"I'm in need of some serious Reconciliation. Think you could help a friend in need?"

Grimacing, Ace looks over.

"I'm serious, Rosie."

"Uh, yeah, so am I. So, would you please hear me out?"

Nodding his head in assent, Ace pats the spot next to him, which I enthusiastically take.

"So, it's funny. It turns out my great-aunt actually lives here, and no, unlike Tom, Lucy is not slowly planning my demise as we speak."

Lightly smirking, I continue, "She told me some serious stuff, Ace, stuff about you, about me, about our families. We're really screwed kids in the eyes of the government. By that, I mean the fact that you're actually the son of Gol D. Roger, the Pirate King."

Ace flinches. "He's not my fa-"

"Ace, it's my turn now. Chill out. I know you consider Whitebeard to be your father, but you need to accept the fact that Roger was your father as well. And you're not alone with an interesting bloodline. My half-uncle turns out to be Shanks, captain of the Red-Haired Pirates. And my mother was a pirate too, or at least she was for a little while before she became a Marine and married my father."

Ace looks at me in shock. "Your uncle is Shanks? I've met him!"

"Get out! That's amazing. It's so funny, the number of coincidences in the world. Well, anyways, after hearing about all of that and realizing how much people have done in their lives, I decided, after much prodding by my aunt, mind you, that I needed to get a grip. Ace, you've literally done everything in your power for me, and I've shoved you away and allowed you to fall short."

"Rosie! Stop, you-"

I hold up my left hand to silence him again.

"Ace, after much thinking, I've made up my mind."

Silently praying, I ask for help in the coming times I know are on their way.

"Ace, I think I love you too."

Ace freezes into silence. It's as though he's stopped breathing. Maybe he has, I don't know. But in the heat of the moment, and the release of all my anxious and pent up energy, I do the one thing left that I absolutely must, must, _must,_ do.

Naturally, I kiss him.

Leaning in, right on close to his face, so close in fact that I could probably count the freckles that adorn his pale face, I place my soft, pale pink lips onto his and wrap my right hand partially around his neck, pulling myself even closer to his body.

Seeming as though I splashed Ace with a dousing of cold water, he jumps, and then does what I think he's wanted to do since a while now. He kisses me back, with enough force to tell he's wanted the kiss, but also with the subtle gentleness to know that he's not in it just for the lust of the game. No, Ace wants to love me as me.

Closing my eyes, and embracing Ace and his arms around my waist, pulling me into his lap, we experience something so magical, so real and so utterly blissful, I can only feel as though I'm at the pinnacle of my happiness.

Stopping our kiss for lack of oxygen, we place our pale foreheads on the other and just look into each other's eyes.

Ace is the first to break our sweet serenade of silence.

"Ah, now that was the kiss I'd wanted from a girl. I just didn't know it was going to be one as pretty as you. Nor did I know that she was the one that was going to kiss me first."

Together we laugh as Ace slowly positions me so that I'm leaning against his left shoulder with my face turned towards the sunset.

"Ace?"

"Hm?"

"The sunset's really pretty, don'tcha think?"

"Yeah. It's sort of implying the end of something."

"And the beginning of another."

"Well, that's rather poetic."

"You started it!"

"And yet you finished it. We really are a perfect match, my-oh-my. I'm the beginning and you're the end."

Giggling at how awkwardly awful that comment sounds, like I'm Armageddon or something, we gaze off into the setting sun, just happy to be with each other, happy to be forgiven.

* * *

"So, where's your aunt live?"

Shrugging my shoulders and admonishing my blondeness, I apologize to Ace.

"Well, it would appear that in my haste to find you, and my aunt's haste to remove me from her home and shove me out her bloody front door, I may have sort of, kind of forgotten where she lived?"

"Rosalie!"

"Sorry, sorry. I thought you hated me! So, in a matter if necessity, I stepped up to the plate and took the high road to come and find you! You cannot, literally cannot, get mad at me for that!"

Pulling me into a hug, Ace agrees.

Trying to escape his grasp because it's getting dark and we don't know where we are, I snake through his arms and burst from his grasp. However, he still manages to keep hold of my left hand.

Looks like that's how we're going to proceed through the island's roads, as twisty and as confusing as they are, Ace is going to hold my hand.

I can't complain. His hand is really warm.

"What'd her house happen to look like?"

God. Please don't tell me I just absolutely blanked on how her cottage looked?

"Uh, oh, it's um . . . white. Yeah, it's definitely white with a terracotta-styled roof as well as shrubs placed around the place. I think there might be a fountain in front of it too."

"Okay, that's a start. We'll find it."

Nodding, I respond with my simple dimpled smile.

* * *

"Ace, I feel like we haven't made any progress."

"Yes, I'm, unfortunately, aware of our current predicament you put us in."

He smirks his famous smirk.

"Stop bullying me, Ace!" I whine. "It's not my fault."

I slap his arm playfully.

"Hey, hey! Don't shoot me; I'm just stating the truth."

"Well, I don't like the truth. It hurts."

"Well, somehow I got stuck with the most directionally challenged blonde girl in the world."

"Wow, Ace, you sure do know how to pick 'em, don't you?"

"Shut it, would ya?"

Laughing, we continue on, still just as confused as we were probably hours ago.

"No one is even outside anymore."

"I know. I feel kind of pathetic accepting that."

"I feel like we've officially wasted hours."

"Aw, Rosie! We were having such a lovely walk too!"

"'Lovely?' This is your idea of a 'lovely' walk?"

"'Course! I get to walk it with the prettiest girl in the world!"

Blushing literally through the roof, I look away in embarrassment.

God, I am _never_ in a million years, going to get used to random loving affections from someone else's heart through their mouth.

The freaking feels.

"Hey, Rosie?"

"What?"

"Lookie there would you?"

Ace points eagerly to a window of a jewelry shop. In the window is a necklace displaying a beautiful key with a Garnet stone in the middle of it.

"Wow, it's beautiful."

"That's my birthstone. January is the Garnet. What's your stone?"

"I think December is the Blue Topaz."

"We're so close! December and January. We really are the beginning and the end, huh? This time, though, it's the start and end of the year."

"Ace, I swear, if you continue to bring up that ridiculous analogy of our relationship into everything, I'm going to hit you."

"All right, all right, I'll cut it out. You gotta admit that that was totally on par with everything we just talked about, though."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Fine, you win. Go you. Why were you pointing out the key, by the way?"

"Oh, because of what I am about to do. That's why."

And in an instantaneous movement, Ace guides me to a precariously empty bench near the shop door, lets go of my left hand and opens the shop door. Hearing the low mumble of voices, I can only imagine the type of conversation Ace could seemingly manage a) at this hour of the night and b) with a shop owner whom he does not know.

After a few moments, I see a hand move to grab the gorgeous key in the front window, and then the blinds are drawn in its place, as though it's mourning the loss of a prized possession, i.e. the key.

I hear the sound of coins hit inside a cash register, and soon thereafter, Ace appears.

"What were you doing?"

"Buying you this key of course!'

What.

"Why?"

And then Ace pulls the cheesiest and yet seemingly most romantic comment I've ever heard in the history of the universe because in this moment, that comment was so eloquently done and timed to perfection.

"Why, Miss Rosie? Well, it's simple. I bought you this key because you're simply the key to my heart."

* * *

Walking with our hands held together, yet again, and a newly found necklace in the shape of a key with a beautiful red Garnet stone wrapped around my slim neck, Ace and I continued to traverse through the streets.

"I'll laugh if we discover we've actually passed it almost a billion times."

"Ace, I'm pretty positive you most certainly will not be laughing. I'm actually completely sure that you are going to be quite the angry and distressed person when you realize that we've passed it. You're probably, and I bet a lot on this statement, going to reflect my exact emotions of rage and anger at my stupidity, and honestly, do I blame you? Not one bloody bit."

"No way, Rosie! I don't think I have ever had so much fun in my entire life just walking and holding someone's hand. In truth, I don't think I've ever held someone's hand for as long as I've held yours anyways. Did you know you have really small, cold hands? They're practically doll-sized."

"You do acknowledge the fact that you have practically bear paws for hands right? My hands are adequately sized for a woman my age in this era. Since when do girls need large hands?"

"Okay, that's a valid statement. However, why are your hands so cold?"

"Because it gets cold at night! God, we can't all be walking fires, Ace! That's literally not even possible in my chemical make-up. And I've always been naturally cold. That's the perk of being born in the winter as Rosalie Cass. Take it or leave it."

"I am pretty cool as a walking fire, aren't I? I bet that actually impresses you way more than you want to admit."

"Um, no, actually I just want to hit you for bragging about your skills as a hot-head."

"Psh, don't you dare lie to me, Rosie! You love me."

"Yeah, didn't you hear that when lovers have their bouts of whatever the heck they're fighting about, the woman usually lashes out and punches her male counterpart?"

"Oh, we've made quite the jump, haven't we? One second, we weren't even in a relationship and now we're lovers. I like this progress more and more. It seems to get better every minute we walk together."

"Ace, you are actually such a little Pratt. You drive me crazy."

"And you drive me crazy."

"Ace, we're not talking about the same type of crazy."

"I know, but I wanted you to know."

"So glad you feel the need to inform me of every moment in which you feel attracted to me. It's such an exciting feel, truly."

"I'm glad. Shall I continue?"

"I think we both know the answer to that."

"Oh, don't we, Miss Rosie. Just a couple minutes ago-"

"Wait, what are you doing?"

"Continuing to give you all the details on all the times I've felt so utterly turned on by you."

"Ace?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm going to fucking kill you."

"But even that was attractive. I felt the passion in that curse, and God, it was beautiful."

"Let go of my hand. Now."

"Never shall I ever let go of your hand."

"Ace, I freaking swear."

"And I swear I love you too."

Oh. My. Fucking. Goodness.

* * *

After all those lovely moments in which I almost died because of Ace's 'loving' moments where I actually thought Cupid hit him a bit too hard with his arrows of love, we finally found my great-aunt's cottage.

Praise be all that is good, and loving, and warm and whatever else you can praise, just fill it into the blank.

Gathering the left over energy that I had been saving in my little body, I rush to her front door and knock in excited haste.

"This, _this_ is where your aunt lives?"

"Yeah, guess so."

"Damn. Wealth really does run right through your family."

"Oh, stop it."

"No, seriously though. I'm surprised you didn't just stay with the Marines. You pretty much had it made. I mean, why would one such as yourself ever just decide to travel with a pirate like me?"

"Because-"

The door slowly opens with a light creak, and I spot Anne hidden behind the door.

"Oh, Miss Rosalie, right this way, as well as Mister Ace."

"No need to be so very formal, uh, Rosie, what's her name?"

"Anne."

"Ah, no need to be so formal Anne."

"Madam Lucy will see you now."

"Uh huh. Did she happen to see us coming like last time?"

"I wouldn't want to pry into her personal life, and the things she sees."

"Oh, come on, Anne."

"Well, she did suggest the fact that the two lovebirds were lost and would eventually find the cottage."

Ace cuts in, "She said lovebirds? Rosie, we're lovebirds now!"

I'm going to kill myself.

I really hope, cross my heart and hope to die, that when Lucy said I needed to experience love again, she did NOT mean like this. Because if that were the case, I'm out, straight up.

* * *

"Ah, it appears that you found my lovely residence again, my poor, poor directionally-challenged niece. And you must be Ace!"

"Nice to meet you . . . um, what's your name?"

"Lucy, Lucy McCallum. I knew your father, just in case you were wondering."

"Rosie told me. And she told me that Shanks was her half-uncle."

"Yes, yes, yes. However, it's so late into the night. Don't you two want to sleep?"

In response, Ace and I simultaneously answered two totally different things.

I responded with a, "Yes!" and Ace with a "No."

After a moment of confusion, Ace realized we didn't want to do the same things. After a moment, he saw I was tired, and changed his tune. Thank goodness.

"Oh, goodie. Then, I'll have Anne prepare your rooms."

Waving her hand, she ushers us with that simplistic movement right out of her room.

Following Anne, I head into my bedroom and jump right under the covers, nestling my little blonde head into the pillow.

Prepared to fall into a deep slumber, a wonderfully welcomed slumber I failed to have had the past three days, or four now, I was unfortunately interrupted.

"Psst, Rosie!"

"Ace, you don't have to whisper. What?"

"Can I join you?"

"Ace, I feel like you're just trying to annoy me now."

"What?! Me?! Never, I just wanted to relive those memories of the Inn."

"Ace . . ."

"Anyways, I'm going to sleep next to you anyways."

"You're like a freaking puppy. Whatever, just shut up and go to bed."

"Okay!"

Acting like the child we all know he is, Ace climbs into the comfy bed, right next to me, and pulls me waist so that I'm laying into his chest.

How. Fucking. Romantic.

I better fall asleep.

* * *

A/N: And there it is. The longest chapter yet!

I hope you all liked it.

I actually love this chapter.

Reviews are welcomed, happily, as usual.


	18. Hello, World! Here We Are

Back again, and coming in strong. That's me.

I wrote another one with over 5,000 words.

Yayy!

I'm actually so glad you all like my story.

It makes me really happy. I literally have been walking around smiling at nothing because I'm just so excited to write.

So, as always: Enjoy Chapter 17. I tried to make it just as amazing as I possibly could.

All of One Piece belongs to Oda.

* * *

Chapter 17: Hello, World! Here We Are.

* * *

I think it would be insufficient for me to say I was happy.

Truth-be-told, I was ecstatic.

Ace and I actually made up, we are now 'technically' together, we have the weirdest relationship under the sun, and I didn't have one nightmare.

I mean, I didn't dream whatsoever, but it was pleasant to just sleep, and to just sleep properly for once. I was so behind. Technically, you can never get lost sleep back, but in all truth, it felt like I'd earned back so much.

I'm only nervous for the road Ace and I have next. I think he specifically desires a 'cute' relationship, and I literally cannot give that to him. I'm on that loner life, you know? For his sake, however, I hope to grow into it, and at least try and make Ace happy. I mean, he's like a little puppy! How could I not?

Being the light sleeper that I am, I woke up before Ace did. But that was totally okay as I had the pleasure to utilize his warmth. Who needs a blanket when you're sleeping next to a fire if you know what I mean. –Wink, wink-

Shifting my position so that I'm more comfortable, I lay further into Ace's chest. In his sleep, he places his left arm over my waist, enveloping my body further into his hold, almost like a pillow. It's so ridiculous. I mean, someone who's so warm should flinch at how cold I am, but Ace just pulls me closer. Maybe he welcomes a bit of the cold, or maybe it's nice to have a little break from the heat.

I like looking at Ace's face. I don't really know if that could be considered as weird, or just affectionate or what, but I like his face. –Shrugs—Ace has the best looking assortment of freckles I've ever seen. And the way his hair just lazily flops over one of his eyes. It's cute, really, really cute. He always looks really; well I guess you could say, alive when he sleeps. He's got an adventurous smile on his face and his heart always races.

I, on the other hand, have been told by Red and my father several times that I look like I'm dead when I sleep. I never know how I should feel by that comment, but it's so weird, and yet comical because it's true! I sleep like the living dead. Instead of having an animated night sleep like you see in the movies in which people roll of their beds and wake up on the floor, or sideways or even out the window, there's just me, not moving. In fact, one time I slept on my back with my hands together, like I was praying. It looked like how one would place a body in a coffin, except without the bouquet of flowers in their hand.

Again, I just think of how lucky and happy I am. I guess I do owe that old coot, Lucy. At the end of the day, she was the only one in the entire universe who knew had to solve this problem.

The sunlight that slowly peaks into the bedroom lightly cascades over Ace's face, causing him to stir slightly and reposition his head right into the crook of my neck.

I decide to attempt to fall back asleep, which actually does work out. Thank goodness. Awkwardly being awake while another person is sleeping is not fun. I've done that. Quite a lot, actually, and it is the weirdest experience. You never knew whether you should wake the person up, or go get food or talk to someone else. I just know I rarely ever fall back asleep. I guess this is one of those blessed times.

Nothing could ruin this moment for either of us.

* * *

Meanwhile: At the Marine Headquarters

* * *

Sengoku the Buddha was seated rather happily at his desk. Being the impressive Fleet Admiral that he was, he had had an amount of paperwork that one would typically die from. There were so many letters, inputs of pirate activity and the like. But Sengoku, bless his busy little heart, had just finished it.

Good for him.

However, the recent five minutes of peace were about to be disrupted by a simple knock, knock.

Knock.

"Come in."

A Marine officer approached, one we would all be familiar with: Rosalie's father.

"Ah, Commodore Mikael, what a pleasure it is to see you."

"I'm sure the pleasure is mine, Fleet Admiral, sir."

"No need to be so formal. Sengoku is fine. Now, how is young Rosalie doing? Surely she plans to be a Marine soon, no? She will truly be a wonderful addition to the Marines."

Mikael runs his hand through his hair in a state of nervous anxiety. Giving a shaking chuckle, he begins, "Well, Sengoku, Rosalie is the reason I decided to come to you. I had planned to handle this situation, this predicament if you will, on my own, with the help of one of Rosalie's family members, but unfortunately things have gotten out of hand."

"Whatever do you mean, Mikael?"

"Rosalie ran away from home. Except, her running away was not the typical teenage angst one in which they need to escape for a little while. She ran away for good with a pirate nonetheless. That pirate being: Portgas D. Ace, the Second Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates."

Sengoku gave Mikael a look that would make even the dead's skin crawl. "Your . . . your daughter did what?"

"It's true. And then when her uncle caught her, she threw a vase at his head, turned tail and ran. I just got word a little while ago that they have changed their status from just traveling partners to . . . well, to lovers as well."

"Mikael, you had one job. It was so simplistically simple-only minimal effort required. And yet here you are telling me you couldn't even _watch _a seventeen year old girl who lived and breathed in the company of your own home!?"

"Well, I was called out and-"

"Save it. Forgive me for lashing out. However, this turn of events is not welcoming. Your daughter already had a bounty kept secret from the world. Now that she's a pirate . . . anything could happen. And of all the pirates to run with, it just had to be Fire-Fist, didn't it?"

"Unfortunately, sir."

"I'm going to put them under heavy surveillance, which includes Marines and the Shichibukai alike. We will find her, capture her and set her straight. We can kill two birds with one stone now that Ace is with her as well."

"So, you're not going to kill her?"

"No, not yet at least. It'd be such a waste of talent. If we could recall who her parents were for just a moment. The Marines run in her blood. She shall eventually come to her senses, and if she doesn't come to fast enough, we have our ways of bringing it out of her. Let's just hope that it doesn't come to that. I'd hate to do such heinous things to your daughter, wouldn't you, Mikael?"

"Y-yes, of course, sir."

"Now, I believe that the one who pushes Rosalie to leave the island was none other than Red, or should I say "Ripred" the ex-pirate."

"Yes, that is correct."

"And you have brought him with you, yes?"

"Uh huh."

"Then I'd like to speak with him. You may go, Commodore Mikael. And remember that if you prefer to find your daughter over the Marines themselves, you are all the more welcome. It is a father's job to reign in their children of course."

"I understand."

"Good day then, Mikael. Good day."

"Oh, Sengoku, I do have one last question."

"Please do ask."

"What will you do with Red?"

"Ah, yes, you and Rosalie were quite attached to him, weren't you? Why, being the traitor he is and the problem he became, after intense questioning and possible torture, he will be justly executed. I think that such a penalty rightly suits a pirate, don't you?"

A sickened look passes over Mikael's face for just a moment before he recomposes himself. "Of course sir. I could not agree more. Pirates deserve such a punishment as that."

And with that, Mikael left Sengoku's office with a heavy heart, an underlying threat and one less friend, namely Red.

* * *

Back at Lucy's Home: Currently in Ace and Rosalie's Bedroom

* * *

"Rosie! You could have just gotten me up! Now we've slept through half of the day, at least."

"Ace, I think you know as well as I do that we needed some sleep. Plus, I'm pretty sure I could have kicked, screamed, pulled your hair and even punched you in the face, and you still would not have even budged."

"All right, all right, I get it. You could have gotten up though."

"Ha! That's funny, before or after your wild iron grip was cast upon my waist? I could barely even budge around your arms."

"Well, you were a really nice teddy bear."

"Shut up, sleepy. I'm hungry."

"Well, good. So am I."

Ace and I got out of the bed, and noticed that Anne had left both of us a change of clothes, again. I went off into the bathroom to change. Light and comfy like the ones I previously had on, the sweatpants, a charcoal gray this time, fit perfectly around my waist. The white shirt she picked was just as nice as well. And this time, the slippers were black and fuzzy. I might just take all of these clothes with me. They literally are perfection.

Upon walking out, I saw that Ace, on the other hand, had black sweatpants, black slippers and a bright pastel green shirt, which is horribly ironic as he prefers to not wear shirts. All the same, he looked nice and comfy, just like me.

Together we walked down one of the hallways and came straight into a parlor room with beautiful glass plates apparently handmade and painted. They were gorgeous. Each plate was different: one had blue violets painted twisting around the outside of the plate, another had yellow roses, and the third, lilies. The other plates had different designs versus the top three with flowers.

"Your aunt really does have expensive tastes, doesn't she?"

"It would appear so. I wonder from whom she got them from?"

"You don't have such an eccentric taste, do you?" Ace asked whilst looking at a rug made of the skin of an animal.

"Ew, oh God, no. I prefer plain to anything. Like I'd really want a pelt of an animal on my floor!"

"Okay, okay, just making sure. I mean, I wouldn't put it past you is all."

"Ace, get out. Just go, you're being ridiculous."

Laughing at me, the little brat, he presses on throughout the room. After a moment, his stomach begins to rumble, which causes me to laugh.

"You must be just as hungry as me."

"Well, unlike you who had cookies over here, I fasted all day on a mountain, so you shouldn't even be hungry."

"Wow, _you fasted_. That's rather impressive coming from the guy who could probably eat his own house."

"Psh, the walls wouldn't even taste good. They'd be all . . . woody and all."

"Well then get a wood chipper. I'm sure it would make that much easier."

"Rosie, that is disgusting. Why would anyone even want to grind up wood like that? Cut me some slack, I do eat a lot more than I probably should, but it's out of my wonderful love of food."

I rebuke him, "More like out of your wonderful love for stuffing your face!"

He throws a pillow at my head to which I dodged straight into poor little Anne.

Laughing at my clumsiness, Ace calls out, "Way to hit the poor passersby, Rosie! You really are a clumsy little menace!"

I roughly grab the pillow and chuck it right at his head in retaliation. It hits, thank goodness. Ace goes down. And then he instantaneously jumps right back up and runs at me. Laughing in fright, I amble to the other side of the room, only to be tackled by Ace. Straddling my sides with his legs, Ace leans right over my face, causing me to lightly blush at the proximity of his closeness.

"I win."

"Well, Ace, not that you've one, you and Rosalie can pick up the mess you just made, instead of Anne."

Ace and I look over to see Lucy enter through the doorway.

"I though you two were older than this. You're acting like a couple of seven year olds. Unless this is how kids your age flirt now."

She smirks and walks over to where Anne is, slowly guiding her to a gazebo outside.

"Anne and I will be waiting outside by the yellow roses in my garden, all right you two? We can talk there."

And she walks away, whisking Anne with her.

"Ace, you dolt. Now we have to clean up her house."

"Says the psychotic blonde girl who whipped a pillow at my head!"

"Yeah, says me! You freaking tackled me to the ground!"

"You have to admit that was attractive as all hell, Rosie."

"Oh piss off, Ace!"

"Rosie, you love me!"

And before I can respond, he kisses me on the lips, to, as I assumed, shut me up. Nice job, Ace, nice job.

And so, we begin cleaning the wonderful mess we made in the span of five minutes. Who knew people could make such a mess? Ace had overturned a couch, knocking the couch over, spilling pillows to the floor, hitting a side table and pushing all these photographs from where they were.

"Ace, could you not be strong for like ten seconds? This is absolutely ridiculous."

"Psh, I didn't even know I did any of that."

"Well, obviously not. Clearly, your sights were set on me and me alone."

"Always are~"

"Go away."

And so, we cleaned.

* * *

Lucy licked her lips and began admonishing us the minute we came upon the gazebo.

"Was it really so hard to wake up, and maintain the peace in my home?"

Ace and I look at each other, and then glance away quickly.

"Maybe?"

We both shrug our shoulders.

"Anyways, I'm sure you, Ace, have many questions. You'll be happy to know that I have all the answers."

"That's a little conceited."

Ace shoves me. "Be nice, Rosie."

"Well, it totally was. I mean, come on now. Let's be real."

"As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted," to this, Lucy gives me a pointed glare, "I know a lot about you, Ace, as well as your family."

"How?"

"Well . . . It's a long story. I'd be happy to tell it."

Ace nods. "Please do."

"Well, being the old coot, as Rosalie calls me, which I am; I've met many people in my life. Three of whom I'm sure you know. First of all, I've had my share of journeying with pirates and their crews. If I hadn't journeyed with them, I at least had my drinks with them."

"Wow, so you were an alcoholic."

"Rosie!"

"Sorry, sorry. Do continue."

Lucy clears her throat. "You really do have Shanks in you. It's ridiculous. Anywho, I met Silvers Rayleigh many years ago, him being the former first mate of the Roger Pirates, also commonly known as the 'Right Hand of the Pirate King'. He's a wacky old man nowadays, or at least that's what I have heard. As you and Rosalie are, Ace, he and I used to be. At least, before he sailed with your father that is. Rayleigh and I were very close. We used to play a lot of Shoji and the like. I was quite good at it, I discovered. However, Rayleigh was amazing, truly worthy of his position as first mate. One day, your father, Gol D. Roger had approached where Rayleigh had been and asked him to join his crew."

Lucy stopped to sip at her tea. "Roger was someone you simply wanted to travel with. He just had that charisma, that charm. Much like yourself, Ace. Rayleigh had to leave me, and I was happy for him. Since that day, I have not seen him again. Though, now I'm an old thing, not the young beaut that I was-unfortunately. Who was I to know that Shanks would eventually join that man's crew, eh, Rosalie? So many coincidences in the deep blue seas, I cannot get over them. It would appear you two were destined to meet."

Ace grabs my right hand and gives it a light squeeze. Looking over, I give him a small smile. However, I have a question to ask: "Why didn't you go with Rayleigh?"

"You would ask that, wouldn't you? Even though I loved him, it was not something I desired. I enjoyed land far more than water, I've noticed and when traveling with someone like Gol D. Roger, you have to be strong, as well as fearless. I would've dragged them down, even if they wouldn't come right out and say it. It was better for the two of us to go our own ways; I was happier that way."

"So, you never fell in love, or married?"

"Well, there were small flings after Rayleigh, but no, I never once felt the same adventurous draw I had with him. I assume that if you were to ever be separated from each other, you and Ace would feel the same way. Certain things do happen for a reason, even if they're the most perpetually sad and painful things in the world."

"So, instead you moved, decided to have a servant girl and planted a garden in his wake?"

"It would appear that way to you, Rosie, but I am truly happy."

Ace spoke up, "You've actually lived a lot of lives for an older woman, huh?"

"I've definitely owned up to that. After Rayleigh left, I didn't immediately move and start my life here, mind you. I did my share of work with the Marines, just so our family didn't think I was a screw up, and then I just decided to retire to a life of seclusion amongst the flowers. Oh! Speaking of the Marines, look at this, would you?"

Lucy presents Ace and I with the morning paper, which reads as follows:

_Breaking News: The Fire-Fist Ace and the Daughter of the Commodore, Rosalie, are on the run._

_Rosalie Cass, the daughter of Mikael Cass, ran away from home only a few short days ago with the Second Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates, Portgas D. Ace. _

_After leaving her home for barely a day, both Rosalie and Ace stirred up trouble with the Marines, and even met with the Strawhat Pirates in an attack against Commodore Smoker. _

_The two just recently became lovers and have slipped under the radar ever since._

_If seen, inform the Marines immediately so that these two may be found and brought to justice. _

"Wow, the Marines continue to get more and more ridiculous every day, don't you think, Rosie?"

"How did they even find any of this out?"

Lucy responds, "I believe your father must have opened his mouth, the half-witted idjit that he is. He probably felt that it was in his best interest after you fled Tom's place to tell the Fleet-Admiral, Sengoku, of your latest affairs in the pirating world. On the plus side, you two have the entire world looking at you now. You're officially a couple."

"Fantastic. We also have the entire world after us, probably pirates and Marines alike!"

"That just makes it more fun! And now the Marines know that you most definitely will not be joining their side. Isn't that exactly what you wanted?"

"Rosalie and I wanted to slip under the radar. I mean, I'm after a certain pirate. Now, this hinders our plans."

"Ever so slightly, Ace. Blackbeard isn't going anywhere."

"How did you-"

"I'm well aware of the events on Whitebeard's ship. Blackbeard definitely has it coming. Now, please do realize that if the Marines are informed, the Shichibukai are as well. Those are a nasty bunch to pick a fight with, that's for sure. Looks like you're going to have to stay on you tippy-toes."

"More like we're walking on eggshells or better yet, glass."

"Rosalie, don't be such a downer! This is an adventure, you two. Now enjoy it!"

"I feel like you're kicking us out."

"Well, in all honesty, I don't want the Marines on my front doorstep, Rosalie, Ace, so to this, I bade you two ado. I'm sure you'll both be fine. I had Anne ready your things, as well as some spare clothing and food. Knowing you, Ace, I'm sure you've been stealing food for ages."

Ace knowingly nods his head.

"You've been stealing food?!"

"Beli can only cover so much, Rosie!"

"Rosalie, be nice to Ace. He's your companion, your one and only. And as for you, Ace, I like you. A lot. So, don't go breaking Rosalie's heart, because no matter how much of a pain in the ass she is, and I know you are aware, I promise I will come find you, and break you if you hurt her. She does love you, as I'm sure you know."

"Y-yes ma'am."

After that wonderful little speech that actually terrified me, I had a bit of an epiphany.

"Hey, Lucy?"

"That's 'Great-Aunt Lucy' to you."

"Yes, yes, whatever. Do you have any paper? I'd like to write Red a letter on how I've been doing."

"Ah, there we go. You're finally using that noggin of yours. Anne, be a dear and get Rosalie some paper and a quill, would you?"

Anne, after a few short moments, returns with two pieces of paper and two quills. "I thought Mister Ace would like to write to his crew as well."

"Most definitely! I can't wait to tell Marco and Oyaji all about our travels."

I sit down and begin to write to Red:

_Dear Red, _

_Oh my goodness! I've missed you and your company so much. I love you dearly, Red. _

_I apologize in advance for not writing sooner. It's been a very strange couple of days, as I'm sure you've been informed of by Mikael and his morning paper. _

_Ace and I have been having a blast, and then we had a bit of a bomb, but we're fine now. In fact, I guess you could say we've recently begun dating. Yay. I think that's what I'm supposed to say in this situation. _

_One second, I think he's peaking over my shoulder. _

I smack Ace on the head. "Go write your own letter!"

"You're so mean, Rosie! I just wanted to see what you were writing about me."

"None of your business! Nada."

_Anyways, I hope Aleu is all right and well. She should be eating fine. I hope you knew where to get her food and water bowl from, as well as where the stash is for her and her treats. Please continue to play with her; she needs her exercise being a full grown wolf and all. _

_I hope my father isn't being a Pratt too much. I know he has his moments of being the most annoying person on the planet, but that's his way of saying he cares. _

_I know it wasn't right of me to just up and leave, but I have listened to your advice, rather intently if I may add, and I have not been this happy in ages. It's all thanks to you, Red. _

_I hope you still have a Shoji partner. The old man at the store will gladly play with you, I know it. _

_Hopefully, Ace and I will be able to visit soon, so you can meet him. We can time it so that Mikael isn't there, and no one will get caught, all right?_

_Please stay happy and well, okay Red? I love you. _

_Your friend and practically daughter, _

_Rosalie_

_xoxoxo_

* * *

After both of us finished our letters to our families, Lucy and Anne sent us on our way.

Hand-in-hand, Ace and I walked the path, this time without getting horribly lost, to the Jet Ski.

We both looked back at the island in a moment of silent appreciation and awe.

"You know, Rosie, your aunt was pretty cool in a creepy way."

"And a brat in every other way possible."

"I guess, but you have to admit, without her, this place might have just marked the end of the road for us."

"Yeah, you'd probably decide to just get up and leave without me."

"I most certainly would not. I'd have at least informed you that I was leaving first."

"Sure, because you knew where I was. That's why it took so long to get back to my great-aunt's humble abode, ain't that right, Ace?"

"Psh. I would have found it."

"You jest, kid. You jest."

Ace pushes me, and I fall over into the sand.

"You know, I really need to make sure you eat."

"Why is that?"

"Because no girl should fall over with the slightest of shoves."

"Sorry I'm not a guy, Ace. I do weigh a lot less than most people, but that was by choice."

"Well, be prepared for many wholesome meals with Ace, then."

"Don't narrate yourself in the third person, please. That's just weird."

"You love it."

"Oh my goodness, I literally do not love that! Sheesh. It's just creepy as all hell."

Ace shakes his head and gets on the Jet Ski, taking the bags with him. After placing the bags on the ski, he puts out his arm for me to take. I reach out and allow myself to be pulled onto the ski.

"And here we stand, accomplishing another chapter in our lives, eh, Rosie?"

"I guess so Ace," I laugh. "You're getting weirder by the second. I mean, we just grew up a little. That's all that was."

"Sure, sure. I hope you do realize that with everybody and their brother, and their entire family after us now that those lovely little katana you have are going to need to be put to use. You're prepared for that, right?"

"Do you seriously doubt my skills, Ace? I am pretty sure I can manage. Plus, with you, we're double the trouble."

"Good, then let's shake up the world, shall we?"

"I have the foggiest idea as to why you are so happy to take on the world, Ace. First you're ready to take down Blackbeard, and now you're absolutely pumped to go after people. It's a little bizarre."

"Eh, I'm just ready to go. I'm ready to make Oyaji even prouder. It's my right to him. And now that we know you come from a lineage almost just as worthy as mine says something: You have big shoes to fill, Rosie. I'll help you, of course."

"Okay, Ace, as long as you say so. You better not get separated from me, like Lucy said. Because if that's the case, we might have some serious issues down the road, or ocean should I say. We need to make sure we have each other's backs at all times. Okay?"

"Sure, Rosie, I'm ready. I promise to never ever leave your side."

* * *

If only they knew, or even had the slightest bit of a premonition, even the tiniest glance into the future of what was to come in their ever so crazy, and completely adventurous and risky lives as pirates.

As they say, "It is better to be hated for what you are than to be loved for what you are not."

Hopefully, Ace and Rosalie can follow this through in the coming days of their lives:

"You've gotta dance like there's nobody watching,

Love like you'll never be hurt,

Sing like there's nobody listening,

And live like it's heaven on earth."

Because both of them are in for one heck of a ride.

The worst of things has yet to even begin to rear its ugly head.

The question truly is: What'll come of it?

* * *

A/N: Yay. Another chapter and a long one at that on a lovely Saturday.

The sun is shining, music is playing and I have a play to see tonight.

I'm very happy.

Reviews welcomed.

And have a lovely rest of the day.


	19. Red, the Color of Blood

And here we are on a Monday night after not having updated yesterday.

Ah, well.

This'll make up for that, I hope. We hope. We all hope together.

Enjoy the next chapter of my story.

I was writing the majority of it in school because . . . I can. –Shrugs—

Writing will always come first.

Anyways, One Piece belongs to the amazing Oda and Rosalie, thank goodness, belongs to me.

* * *

Chapter 18: Red, the Color of Blood

* * *

Did you know that every color under the sun has pigments of every shade and hew? Well, colors do. In fact, they have their own psychology. The color red, for lack of a better example, is a warm and positive color associated with our most physical needs and our will to survive. It exudes a strong and powerful masculine energy. Red is energizing. It excites the emotions and motivates us to take action. Red can also be a symbol for anger and irritation, and in contrast, good luck.

However, I am most commonly informed with red being my friend, Red, or better yet, the color of blood.

And what I saw in my nightmares had a whole heck of a lot of implications that blood would be spilled.

* * *

"It is always wise to look ahead, but difficult to look further than you can see."

Well, is that not the nicest start to seeing into the future?

Truth-be-told, I had not seen a darn thing from the future in ages. Be it Ace's now ever present presence and influence on my sleep or what, but my "prophetic" qualities had calmed down to the point where I thought they had become nonexistent. It was a bit of a relief after being plagued with such visions and disgusting horrors of death of others for ages. I think we all deserve a break once and a while, even if just for a few short days, or even hours. However, all I know and all I can clearly define is that today was the dawn of my first relapse, and boy, was it a frightening one. And better still, it was all seen upon a rather uncomfortable Jet Ski.

I may see other people having frightful encounters or severe deaths, but never have I seen a discussion so vivid in my life, especially about someone close to me.

Never have I ever seen Red.

* * *

"_Red, or rather 'Ripred' the Pirate, what a sight to behold! Here we stand in my silent, dusty little office, you an ex-pirate who's happened to sail more seas than many would have thought possible, and me, a Fleet Admiral. Who would have even fathomed the two of us would be back in the other's presence, hm? It is truly a delightful sight to witness you come back into the game – even for a short while, the short while that it is."_

"_Ah, my old rival Marine, the Great Sengoku. I'd have said that it was a pleasure, but we both know, strongly might I add, that you can only witness pirates as scum of the sea. Let us cut this idle chit-chat shall we? You must surely know as well as I do that I have done nothing. I renounced my pirating days to spend the rest of my life growing old, sipping tea and progressing and excelling at my Shoji. It has been ages since I sailed the ocean blue."_

"_Around when you found Rosalie Cass in the snow after her parents' 'murder', correct?"_

"_What does that have to do with absolutely anything? Why is Ro-Rosalie even being brought up into this discussion?! You never change, Sengoku."_

"_Well, let me put it simply, or as simply as I can manage: She. Is. Missing. She's been missing for days traveling with lo and behold, Ace, the Commander of the Second Division of one of the Yonko, Whitebeard! Are you so daft in both mind and spirit that you would dare even to fathom asking such a ridiculous and absurd question?"_

"_Rosalie and her business belong to Rosalie. If she feels like traveling with a damn pirate, then you better damn well let her! She's a seventeen year old girl with many dreams and ambitious goals, aspirations for a future better than the one she had planned. Being a Marine, no matter how miraculous you think it is, would only further hinder her future. How can she even dream of shooting for the stars if she is not even allowed to get her feet off of the ground?!"_

"_Ah, it all makes sense now. It truly was you!"_

"_What in the hell do you mean?"_

"_It's all coming together like the pieces of a puzzle. How delightful! YOU influenced Mikael's child, though albeit she is blonde and has had her tendencies to make rather ignorant decisions, to take the unforsaken road and follow the path of a damn pirate! Who even gave you such a right?"_

"_You must be joking. Now you've blown a simple conversation out of the water. Literally so sky high, it may never even return. I told Rosalie to grow and create her own version of Rosalie Cass, not the engineered daughter of a Marine so that'd she'd be perfect and wonderful like you want her to be. I want Rosalie flawed. It makes for a person more realistic than someone you'd ever be. I mean, sure I influenced the kid to go off and travel, but do not misunderstand me when I say, I did not tell her to become a pirate. I told her, 'Forgiving isn't something you do for someone else. It's something you do for yourself. It's saying, 'You're not important enough to have a stranglehold on me.' It's saying, 'You don't get to trap me in the past. I am worthy of a future,' or at least something along those very lines. I wanted Rosalie to find a prosperous future, for herself, for me, and for anyone who loves her enough."_

"_How sweet. Truly. Well, you should be pleased to discover then that Miss Rosalie has been swooned by Portgas D. Ace himself and that she's welcomed a place on the Whitebeard Pirates. Good for her. However, your words of self-belief and courage and the like mean nothing here. Not a damn thing. Rosalie will become a Marine, I'll see to that with my very own eyes, whether she or you like it or not. And if she feels that she cannot tame the insatiable desire and draw to be a pirate, there is a remedy to the problem. I shall instate her as a Shichibukai, and there she can stay as a Pirate whilst working for the government. There are always options; there always are; always will be. Even if the die has been cast, I will not yield."_

"_Oh really? You really are a man of vivacious wit, of esprit, are you not, Sengoku? And how do you presume to have Rosalie just waltz through your doors, right on over to your side and just follow the path of life of a Marine in this government?"_

"_Ha, do you make me life, Red! It's so simple, so, so simple. We, put simply, must kill someone close, or closest to her. I believe that you, no matter how ignorant I deem you to be at points, know whom exactly I mean, no?"_

"_Y-you want to kill me to bring Rosalie here?"_

"_Naturally. I mean it really is the best solution I can make. A lot of it is probably rational conjecture, but a man can dream. Mikael already helped pull the majority of the weight, his weight, as well. Knowing how Rosalie's mother behaved, it's easy to see that she should have a temper the size of all the deep blue seas combined. Rosalie Cass will vehemently come, and here I shall sit, eagerly awaiting the young girl's prosperous arrival."_

"_That is the most ridiculous plan I have ever heard. Rosalie would never come. Over my dead body would she ever."_

"_Oh, really? So, you're telling me that your death, your very own execution, means absolutely nothing to her? I'm supposed to sit here with my arms crossed and believe that she's such a definitive sadist?"_

"_How farcical! No, of course she's not. I made a deal with the kid. I told her that if my demise was ever placed upon us, upon our lives, she was not to come after me. Even if she tries to come after me, Ace would stop her too. I know he's not an illogical young man."_

"_Praising a twenty year old boy out to kill Blackbeard out of justice, are you? He's no more rational than she is. They're both bombs waiting to tick off. Ah, well, no matter. Your existence, Red, is expendable. You will die, in fact we all will. However, your death? That's today."_

"_I do not fear it. Nor do I fear you, Sengoku. Especially if it's in the case of my dear friend, Rosalie, my own child in a sense. To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure."_

* * *

When I had awoken, a cold sweat decided to birth itself upon my pale face. My heart was racing and a dull ringing rang through my ears, vibrating through my head and rattling my thoughts. I had forgotten, unbelievably, the severity of myself actually seeing the future. However, even still, my prophetic tendencies had never been this horrid.

I was astounded, to the point where I was ill, that Red was even brought into this entire bloody situation, or better yet, by my own damn father! And the next thing I know, he's going to be executed! My friend, my father in the spiritual sense is sentenced to death by this shitty government!

Unless somehow, for once in my life, I'd gotten the future wrong . . . Perhaps what I saw was only a nightmare, a figment of my imagination versus my precognition. I would typically say that I hoped that was the case, save for the fact that I'd never been wrong, nor had anything ever been so vivid, so real, so tangible.

Red does not deserve this harsh treatment. He told me that those who dare to dream and to think and venture outside of the box are the ones who are crazy enough to change the world, to make it into something better, something it has never been. And yet, here I sit in Ace's arms, forced to accept the idea that Red's utmost goal for my entire existence would inevitably lead to his own demise.

No wonder I honestly hate the Marines so fucking much.

There's literally no excuse for the murdering of another person like this deed has implied. I honestly want to die.

Unfortunately, and ironically, the man I considered to be my father is a stranger to me. Even I failed to know, to learn and live Red's actual backstory. How was I supposed to know that Red was a freaking pirate?!

* * *

"ACE! Ace, my God, get up!"

I began to do anything that popped into my mind to wake Ace up, be it pinching, punching, flicking, or hair-pulling. It was an absolute matter of the utmost necessity to make him up. Even if I had to risk drowning him in the bloody ocean, Ace was going to wake up.

After a long time, in a ridiculous and unbelievable state of lethargy, Ace slowly comes out of his slumber like a vampire who hasn't fed in ages.

"Eh, oi, shuddap, Rosie. It's n-nap time . . ." Ace trails off, his mind falling back into a sleeping state, his body, a snoring one, more or less.

Taking my left hand and creating a cup of sorts, I scoop some of the salt water from the sea and splash it against his face, or more like belt his face with the water. Spluttering and finally coming to his senses, Ace realizes that I had been in a state of panic.

"Rosalie, what is your damn-"

"Ace! Red. It's Red. They're going to kill him! We have to GO! NOW!"

"What are you even talking about?"

I begin to recite everything I had just witness, as well as fill Ace on the concept of my future sight, at times speaking a bit too fast that the words that came out of my mouth came out of order, or stumbled over each other in a frenzy.

Grabbing my sides and forcing me to look at him, Ace holds my body in a suspended stupor.

"Rosalie, you need to breathe. This is not healthy."

"B-bu-but, Ace, Red-"

"Rosalie, if the execution is today, there's not a chance in Hell we could save him. Secondly, look around you, and then look back at me. We're in the middle of the ocean, far away from the Marine Headquarters, which is actually a good thing in our case. We've been floating across the blue sea waiting for a sign, even the slightest sliver of a hope that Blackbeard has gone by. We cannot and will not stop for a man who has pleaded with you before to let him die. You're usually far more rational than this."

"Ace, this is Red! This is my friend, my closest friend. I can't l-leave . . ."

I begin to break down. Small water droplets begin to corner at my eyes, tempted to fall down my pale, gossamer cheeks. One eventually does, and soon, more follow, like a parade. However, it appears to be a parade of death.

"Rosalie, shh, shh. No, please don't cry. Rosie."

Ace affectionately rocks my person back and forth, hugging me, and trying to regulate my breathing. Unfortunately, I can't even try and suppress the onslaught of emotions that begin to hit me from all sides. Ace may be right, but how can I live with the idea that Red's going to die alone, without even me there to stop him?

"You're blaming yourself, and perhaps me right now, aren't you?"

Sniffling, I look up at Ace, a bit perplexed as to how he knew that deep down, I was blaming myself. "Yeah, I am. Why?"

"Well, it's stupid and useless. You didn't do anything. You did what Red asked you to do, and I just happened to stumble across the most amazing, and awkwardly emotional at times, girl in the world. Rosie, this is our fate as pirates. We must embrace it, like your Great-Aunt Lucy said. Believe me, I'd blow up the entire Marine Headquarters just to rescue Red for you."

"You would?"

"Most definitely. Unfortunately, you and I are two kids stuck in a war-torn world, ruled by idiots and conceited assholes alike. It's up to us to change it."

"But if I can't even save Red, how am I supposed to change the world?"

"Trust me, Rosie, you are saving Red. You're letting him go, go and move on, on to the next world, with bigger and better adventures that not even you or I could imagine. I'm a little jealous, honestly. I wonder what it would be like to explore a new world like that?"

"All covered in gold, and shining, with amazing feats of nature and fantastical animals."

"I mean I guess," Ace shrugs his shoulders. "Imagine he's going to THAT place, and that place he will. And he'll be happy because you dreamed he'd go somewhere just as beautiful as that."

I start to sing, hoping to quell whatever harboring feelings of anger and sadness that dare to break the surface of my steely façade.

_This is me for forever_

_One of the lost ones_

_The one without a name_

_Without an honest heart as compass_

_This is me for forever_

_One without a name_

_These lines the last endeavor_

_To find the missing lifeline_

_Oh how I wish_

_For soothing rain_

_All I wish is to dream again_

_My loving heart_

_Lost in the dark_

_For hope I'd give my everything_

And so there, Ace and I sit, me humming, and him listening to my voice. After a few minutes in which I finished the song, Ace and I listen to the rhythm of the sea, both sending a silent prayer to Red.

_I love you, Red. Always and forever._

* * *

Red had been brutally handled. He'd been stabbed and whipped, as well as injected with small poisons, not strong enough to kill him, but enough to make him swell, and burn internally.

He had his mind ransacked for answers about Rosalie and other pirates that sailed the ocean.

He'd even been traumatized with pictures of his dead wife, and his dead daughter.

His dead daughter, Charlotte, very much reminiscent of the child we all know and love today, Rosalie Cass.

* * *

Let us take a small peek into the backstory of Red:

* * *

Red's family had been murdered as a child, much like Rosalie, which led to the closeness of their bond. Both suffered losses so detrimental, one would think they'd have quit long ago. However, together they balanced each other in a way one would think of as Yin and Yang. They were a perfect, interdependent match.

As he grew up, he was also an outsider like Rosalie, and he was unhappy. Bullied, scorned and horribly neglected by friends and foes alike, Red spent the majority of his time alone, feigning off the rounds of anger and rage he had built up at those who hurt him. He took up Shoji and other games to keep his mind going. Sengoku was only being a prick when he said that Red was ignorant. He was brilliant, far smarter than Sengoku could ever even dream to be. Red was everything Sengoku wasn't; his antithesis if you will.

When Red was in his twenties, he, to the surprise of most of the villagers he lived with, married a beautiful young woman, with long, flowing blonde hair that billowed around her shoulders. Her name was Rebecca, and she was a wonderful, and yet simple woman who just loved to be in the company of Red. When she had her young babe, their family could not be more perfect. Well, until both Charlotte and Rebecca were killed by bandits. Red was not present then. He was out, helping out at the docks and unloading excess cargo.

When he discovered what had happened in the wake of his absence, Red went on a frenzy with pure, bloody killer intent and brutally maimed every bandit he laid his eyes on, christening him with the name, "Ripred" now a commonly used appellate by the Marines.

He later became a pirate, as he was an amazing assassin, which was until he met Rosalie in the snow. But you know what happened after that already. Interdependence, my friends. They both equally relied on the other.

And what a wonderful relationship it was.

They'd never take it back for anything in the world.

I mean, who could blame them?

* * *

His execution was quick. That was exactly what Rosalie had prayed for.

Two Marines took their sabers and with two delicate swipes, they cleanly decapitated the man.

Before he died, however, he left the world with one beautiful idea in his mind:

Red could not stop thinking about Rosalie, and her prevalence in his life. Her wonderful attributes and gifts those would become rather jealous and jaded over. He remained rather pensive on what she would be, the bright, happy girl with the grin he knew, as well as the girl with the brain of a genius and a mentality far more mature than any child her age. She was his little, shining child.

_I love you, Rosalie, Rosie, Ro. Forever and always._

* * *

A/N: So many stakes driven through my poor heart this chapter.

Oh my goodness. I'm sorry it's not 5,000 words, but I really needed to post another chapter. So, this one exceeds 3,500, which is actually rather good for me, especially on a busier day such as today.

I hope you all had an amazing Monday!

Review! xD


	20. Isle Del Rosa

Here I am, ridiculously late, and horribly sorry for totally not following through as the author that I've sort of become in the span of three unbelievably crazy weeks.

I had an extremely busy week, like usual, and it being the start of the new term, teachers went a little crazy with tests and quizzes. Today alone, I had three.

However, guess whose Spring Vacation started today? This kid, yes, yes it did. And man, am I excited.

I'm going to be learning how to play the keyboard whilst writing this story for hopefully every day this week. Yay!

Plus, my friend took a trip to France, so I've been going crazy asking her questions and the like, because . . . well, my life isn't as epic as that. I'm that kid who doesn't get to travel even my own country, let alone someone else's. So . . . yeah, I'm that jealous friend with a curiosity problem.

(Can I not ramble for ten minutes? God . . . Look at me. I'm a wreck.)

So, to sum is all up, worry and fret not, because I have returned.

I'd also just like to say thank you to my wonderful favoriters and followers, (Yes, I made favorite a noun) because you guys are just amazing, so thanks a million. And thank you casie200 for putting me on your favorite authors list. I cried tears of joy.

And lastly, this chapter will be happier. I know . . . I've been writing some pretty serious stuff, but this chapter finally seems to be looking up. Probably because I've been happier today, and not emotionally detached like usual.

So, finally, here we sit: about to read Chapter 19 of Finding Me.

Enjoy.

One Piece belongs to our amazing friend Oda, whilst Rosalie belongs to me. :]

* * *

Chapter 19: You're the Yang to My Yin

* * *

The concept of Yin and Yang has a long history. In culture, they represent two opposite principles in nature. Yin characterizes the feminine or negative nature of things and yang stands for the masculine or positive side. Yin and Yang come in pairs, such as the moon and the sun, male and female, dark and bright, hot and cold, passive and active, happy and sad and so on.

Yin is negative, dark and feminine, so that would be me, whilst Yang is bright, positive and masculine, much like Red.

He really is the Yang to my Yin.

* * *

There comes a time in a person's life in which they quit; they give up; they die, or at least attempt to die.

This moment in my life was definitely, without a doubt, one of those times.

I had already been given an unfortunate chance to die upon almost killing myself a few years ago, as I'm sure you are all vividly aware. However, I had someone, whom I dearly loved and trusted, stop me. The real question is: What's holding me back now? What's restraining my impulses to just curl up in the fetal position and die? What's going to actually prevent me from finally accepting the fact that maybe my place truly does not and never will be upon this forsaken planet?

No one.

No one except for Portgas D. Ace. It took me some time, but I've finally realized that I needed Red to grow and to become the tall, independent, sophisticated and studious child I am today. The minute I left home and him was the minute I said, without actually saying it, that I have officially grown up. It's now my time to leave the metaphorically nest and fly off.

However, Ace, in all his youth, and sometimes childish mentality, Ace is someone I need now for a completely different reason. I need Ace to learn how to love and to have fun, to experience life and all that it has, all that it can give me in a way that Red would not have been able to. I need to completely trust him, now more than ever, so that I can keep a cool head on my shoulders and not just go after that damn Sengoku and obliterate his existence by myself.

Even though my foresight did not present Red's execution to me, which might be a blessing in disguise, I still felt it-a stiff, harsh pang straight into my steadily beating heart. Something had been lost. He was gone and yet, I was here. Who am I to live, to be happy, and to thrive without Red? I feel bad, horrific, disgusted and almost evil for living in the midst of this cruel, harsh and malicious world.

* * *

Pensively, Ace begins speaking. "I lost my mother a long time ago," he starts.

After having just finished my thoughts on Red and my puny, worthless existence in the world, I broke out of my small realm of thoughtful ideas and inevitably heard those words escape from between his lips.

"You met your mother?" I ask, genuinely curious.

Ace meets my questioning gaze and laughs. "My father may have been executed due to the . . . path he decided to take and his becoming of Pirate King, but it does not mean I didn't meet my own mother. However, I was a mere child when I met her. She was an amazing woman. You'd have liked her, Rosie. From the stories I heard about her, she was spectacular. Her name was Portgas D. Rouge. I took her name, as I'm sure you've just guessed."

He waits for me to nod, which I do.

"Rouge was really quite thin with long, wavy strawberry-blonde hair. She wore a pink hibiscus flower in her hair on the left side of her head, and had freckles on her face, which were passed on to me. She was so kind and loving."

"So, you loved your mother very much, even in that short window of time, I take it."

"Oh, most definitely! I understand how you feel, Rosie, I really do. I felt like death the minute I heard the reasoning as to why she had passed. She has sacrificed herself for me so that the World Government may never find me. I was so pissed, and upset – so angry at the world. And after time, a lot of time might I add, I finally decided that it wasn't even truly my fault, thankfully. My mother died for me, so that I might do something with my life. It is the greatest act of absolute love a parent can give."

Ace pauses to recollect his thoughts and determine his next route in his little monologue.

"Rosie, Red died for you. You are the child that Red loved, needed and wanted in the world. You made Red Red, and no one else could possibly do that. Red was given a gift, a truly amazing gift, and his death means that you, his present, has finally moved on. Now, the only one who needs to move on is you. Otherwise, you'll only fall into depravity – a dark, evil, angry abyss full of hate, of spite, of jadedness, and of rage. I hate the Marines too, Rosie, and this act actually makes me despise them even more, but it's not enough to die over, or even stoop as low as to kill yourself. So, clearly, you cannot do either. Do you understand?"

Sighing in defeat, I decide to let go of my crazy ideas, like killing myself and what not. However, the pain refuses to even slightly alleviate itself.

"Why'd he have to die, Ace?!"

"Who knows, Rosalie? Maybe that was Fate's way of ending one chapter of your life in that big book of yours and sequentially starting the next one. No one really knows, nor can they determine as to why these things happen, and that's what's so funny about this thing we call, 'life.' This world that we live in . . . I tell you."

"Well, then clearly life sucks."

"Yeah, it has its own very special moments of pure and absolute fuckery, but don't let that stop you from loving the world! There is so much you have not even seen yet! I promised you that I would take you anywhere and everywhere that you'd like to go, so I will. Never forget that! In fact, we'll start today. However, this time it's where I want to go – for you."

"What are you even talking about?"

Ace gives me a big grin. "We're taking a nice, lovely day off from looking for Blackbeard. Instead, we're going to travel and experience an island I'm positive neither of us have been to."

In shock, I admonish him, "Ace! We have to go after Black-"

"Nah, no we don't! What's more important: My girlfriend or some crummy murderer with a serious problem?"

Blushing, I leave that question hanging. I guess in his mind, the answer is pretty obvious.

I fucking hate logic sometimes.

Or, more like all the time.

What on Earth are we going to do now?

* * *

"So, uh . . . um well . . . where are we going?"

Aloofly, Ace just simply shakes his head and keeps walking in a determined fashion.

'_Well, that was ridiculously vague of you, Ace. Thanks for keeping me in the know.'_

This time, I follow behind Ace like a lost puppy, and gaze at our surroundings at the latest island. The appellation of the island is: The Isle Del Rosa, or the Island of the Rose. How ironic.

Naturally, there's a shit-ton of roses: white roses, and red roses, and yellow roses, and pink roses, and even weird black roses and just roses. (So much polysyndeton! Look it up and then go into your English class, you'll sound really smart.)

Besides the innumerable amount of roses of every shape, size and color, there were also baths with rose-smelling shampoos, soaps and conditioners, as well as rose necklaces and the like. There were even roses on clothing and in hair and so on so forth. There were actually enough roses that even a rose fanatic like myself would grow a little crazy.

Gazing away at a lone rosebush, my mind fades away into a distant memory of mine.

* * *

_Flashback:_

* * *

"_Hey, Ro, look! It's the flower your name is derived from!" Red looks at me, quite eagerly might I add, trying to get me to crack even the slightest emotion from my pathetic and depressed five year old body._

"_Who cares?" I ask feeling perturbed._

"_You probably should," Red admonishes me. "There are over 100 species of the rose. The rose is most commonly used as an ornamental plant grown in the garden for its beautiful flowers._ _The rose can come in all colors although a "black rose" is not actually black it is usually a dark red. Each color has a different meaning or symbolizes something different to us for example red means love, orange - desire, yellow - joy et cetera. Red roses have been a continuous source of inspiration for artists everywhere and thousands of paintings and poems have been written inspired by roses or by a single red rose. It has been said that a single red rose speaks volumes. And thus why your mother named you Rosalie."_

"_That's what my mother named me after?" I asked skeptically._

"_Oh, I definitely don't doubt it for a second. Your mother truly had a way with names. She was a fabulous, brilliant young woman in her own special and boldly creative way. You resemble her and your father quite a bit, if you can believe it."_

"_No, actually I can't, Reddy."_

"_Really? And why is that?"_

"_Well . . . because I am alive and they are not."_

_A look of remorse passes over Red's face, realizing that I really had lost a lot in my life, and that a child like me truly cannot cope with such a tragic event so early in my years. Crouching down so that he may be eye-to-eye with myself, Red, in a slow, quiet voice, tells me, "Ro, you can still live a life chalk-filled with happiness even with your family gone. Smile, and smell the sweet roses."_

_I grow annoyed again, "Everyone constantly tells me to 'smile,' 'be happy,' and 'move on.' Every second I laugh, smile, or do something out of even the slightest bit of joy, it is another passed second without them and their smiles, their laughs, their happiness."_

_Grabbing my hand without my consent, Red guides, or more like drags me, across the garden. He leads me through the roses, the violets, the poinsettias and the lilies, until we reach a beautifully tiny and exquisite waterfall. _

"_Reddy, it's just a-"_

_Before I even have a chance to admonish Red for wasting my time by showing me a waterfall I'd already been quite familiar with, he shoves me into the crystal clear blue water. _

_My head goes under, shortly followed by my shoulders, ending with my legs and then my feet. I open my eyes in shock and gaze at the broad expanse of aquatic life, like angel fish and trout, under the water. One small school of fish breezed past my body, causing me to open my mouth in wonder and awe. The water floods my mouth, blocks my airways, hurts my lungs, and attacks my nose. I can't breathe!_

_Slowly, I continue to sink deeper as my breathing becomes more and more blocked, and I can't swim. It is dark here. The black swallows me up, much like that of an abyss. The waves claw at my sides, pulling and plunging my defenseless body further into its icy depths, a grave waiting to keep me as its master. My lungs fill with the freezing water until air no longer enters my body. I choke and only swallow more. I panic, consumed with the idea I won't make it out of the depths alive. So far below the blissful surface of the water, I freeze, paralyzed with both shock and fear. This is it. This is my death. (This was a paragraph I had to write in school about something we feared, and boy, do I hate drowning. I felt this was totally après peau.)_

_Red comes to my young, child-like rescue. The depths of the water were not able to seize my body today, Thank goodness. _

_Spluttering on the bank, I try to collect myself and balance out my breathing. _

"_Are you trying to kill me?" I ask incredulously, choking out my words. _

_Laughing, Red responds with a calm gaze, "Why would I want to kill you, kid? I'm just trying to teach you a ridiculously important lesson: to live and learn. One of the easiest and most beneficial ways is to learn how to swim!"_

_Coughing the last bit of water out, I rush over to Red and shove him into the water, the icy depths. However, my wonderful plans were hopelessly foiled in the miniscule span of ten seconds. Red took me right on with him._

_With a great splash, Red and I were welcomed, yet again, by the water. _

_Incredulously, I get out a, "Red!" _

_And yet, instead of allowing us to leave the icy abode after shortly falling into it, Red takes my body and lays me right on my back, giggling all the while. _

"_Take your arms and legs and form a nice 'x' shape for me, would you, Ro?" He beckons me to do so._

_In a mildly nervous state of shock, I ask, "You want me to make the twenty-fourth letter of the alphabet for you?"_

"_No, you dolt! I want you to float for me. Floating is so simple. Here, I'll help move your arm."_

_And so, with gently coaxing and mild admonishments from Red, I learned how to float, one of the simplest things to do in water, the thing I really do despise, or more like abhor. I also learned what my name was derived from and to trust Red more and more. We ended up going swimming almost every other day of every week. It was a fun and exciting way to pass time - only because Red was there._

* * *

_End of Flashback_

* * *

Present Day: Isle Del Rosa

* * *

"What'cha' lookin' at?" Ace asks me inquisitively; almost a bit concerned as though I had somehow found a new way to harm myself – with a rose all the same.

Can I really honestly stand there and blame him? Hell no. Not one single tiny bit if you ask me. My innate masochism may decide to take its focal point at any point and time now, especially with Red gone. I really hope it doesn't come to that stage of my life again. Ace truly doesn't deserve to see and witness _that_ side of me. Poor Red had suffered it long enough for any lifetime.

I mumbled out a short, "Looking at the roses."

"Ah. Oi, do you think I could pick one?"

"Do you actually need my permission?" I ask him, answering his question with a question.

"Oi, don't you dare even think about giving me that. That rose should totally act as a memento – let me pick one."

'_Then why even ask me about it in the first place if you're just going to justify yourself your own answer and pick it anyways?'_

Instead of picking the stereotypical red or pink rose that the majority of us have seen or even planted outside of our homes in our lifetimes, Ace selects a white rose, the symbol of purity, remembrance and new beginnings. It represents the unblemished love. A single white rose with a slight pink hue signifies the blush of the first kiss.

Slowly approaching me, Ace drops down on his right knee, takes my left hand, kisses my palm and places the rose in my hand – thorns and all.

"Here, I giveth a white rose to thou so that I may, somehow, crack even the teeniest of smiles on that wonderfully perfect and indestructible poker face of my girlfriend's. Doth thou smile yet?"

Giving in to his demands, I give Ace a small, nice smile, slowly pulling him up from the ground with my right hand. Unbeknownst to us, we had created quite the scene. Practically the entire town, specifically young, angsty teenage girls, had decided to watch Ace sing my blues away with his grandeur performance.

Blushing a cherry hue, I pull Ace away from the crowd, desperately trying to avoid any and all contact with these people. Ace, on the other unfortunate hand, waves, leading several of the girls to coo and blush at him.

Eventually, I get the big attention hog away from the crowd and lead us into the nearest hotel.

"Ace, I cannot believe you! You totally did that purposely."

"Uh, yeah, totally. It was wonderful. I bet you loved it."

"Wow, a little conceited are we?"

"You know it! We really should go eat somewhere. I'm starving, aren't you?"

"Unfortunately, I don't have five stomachs like you. However, I am a tad bit hungry, Ace. And for the long run, please do not a) embarrass me in public like that and b) have a narcoleptic fit like last time. The last time I checked, you and food in public really do not jive in the best scenarios."

"Ah, challenge accepted. I'll be sure to somehow squeeze both of those into our amazing day."

"Ace, I fucking swear, do not even try it. I'll . . . I'll come over there and attack you."

"Psh, you're so lame, Rosie! You couldn't take me on, and you know it."

"You wanna bet? Let's go."

Playfully shoving my shoulder, Ace takes me hand and searches for the nearest restaurant.

Our relationship is so strange. It borders on bizarre, honestly.

And yet . . . I don't think I'd ever want another relationship such as the one I have right now.

We are so equally balanced. He's practically Red, but much younger. He's a Yang too. I can tell. How farcical that somehow in this big old world we live in, I would find two Yangs that perfectly match my unfriendly and reclusive Yin. I must have some serious skills.

I guess the real question now is:

What'll happen throughout the rest of my day with this crazy kid who happens to be my insane 20 year old boyfriend?

* * *

A/N: And there's a nice three-thousand and more word chapter just to say that I'm back after a nice couple of days off of being busy, extremely busy.

And it's happier.

A little bit at least.

She's coping; don't shoot the messenger – that would be me.

Anyways, I love you guys.

I hope you enjoyed reading.

Reviews happily welcomed as usual. They always make my day. :3


	21. Isle Del Rosa (2)

-Wipes sweat off of eyebrows, forehead and so on, so forth-

So, as for day one of my vacation, I thought I was going to have a delicious little break, especially on a Saturday, mind you. And yet, today I woke up and it became a matter of go-go-go. I visited my uncle, my grandmother, I went out to church, I had to go out and talk to someone about something.

I mean, I literally had to go from the minute I got up . . .

And all I really wanted to do was crank out my Netflix, finish the last ten episodes of Gossip Girl and write the next chapter of my story.

Way to have my plans foiled. Literally.

Aw, well, here I am, writing the twentieth chapter, and enjoying the fact today I had achieved 3,300 views on _Finding Me._

I'd just like all of you lovies to know that my family is very proud of the fact that their kid, family member, cousin, so on, so forth, is actually a good writer.

I think I might actually pursue a career as an author if things continue to turn out this well.

* * *

I'd also just like to say that today I had my first mild writer's block. I have planned out my entire story for about a year now; however, I'm having difficulty putting it into words, especially today. I'm not sure if it was because I was so frazzled today or what not, but it took a little bit longer than usual to decide where I wanted this chapter to go.

Hm. Well, I hope it works out either way.

One Piece belongs to Oda, Rosalie, me.

Enjoy reading all ye merry bookworms.

* * *

Chapter 21: Isle Del Rosa (2)

* * *

"One of the very nicest things about life is the way we must regularly stop whatever it is we are doing and devote our attention to eating." ~Luciano Pavarotti and William Wright, Pavarotti, My Own Story

Ironically, me being in this world I live in, eating seems to big the big old 'to-do' and all, what with the number of restaurants and buffets and inns, which do indeed serve breakfast as Ace and I would know, that exist on each and every island. People just seem to ooze the 'I love eating' vibe.

Well, everyone except for the very strange, very blonde, average-heighted child with color changing eyes and prophetic foresight. In fact, I think I am included in that one percent of 'I like to drink more than I like to eat' group of people whom would rather live off of liquids than actual food.

Back in my younger years, my teachers and peers alike thought I was crazy. I just didn't like eating. There are several reasons why, however. I might be the pickiest eater in the world. I hate fruits, I despise vegetables, I detest anything with too much of one herb and I absolutely abhor anything else besides the protein, dairy and desert categories. That pretty much destroys the Food Pyramid they taught us about in school. Just imagine the most annoying teacher you had with, I'm assuming like mine, a completely ridiculous nasal voice and a pompous attitude saying, "Always eat a balanced diet of fruits, vegetables, some dairy, and some carbs and of course, some protein. Don't eat too much fat though. It's not good for you." Ya-da, ya-da, ya-da. Seriously, I hate food.

Maybe it was just her freaking fault? I really cannot be sure, but I went all liquid for a good two years. And then with my bizarre outlying behavior and strange mannerisms, I really was on a roll for being one of the weirdest anomalies in my entire village. Pretty soon they were probably going to send a priest down and perhaps decide to perform an exorcism on me . . . That's a tad scary to imagine.

Anyways, back to the point seeing as I'm rambling like my typical self, I had difficulty eating with Ace. He eats so fast, so much and so . . . guy-ish that a girl like me can barely handle it. And especially since that last time where he slept in his plate of food for a good couple of minutes or so? Yeah, I'm definitely scarred for life just even eating with this child!

And so . . . Together we walked into The Ristorante, Ace looking calm cool and collected and me, looking for any alternative route to the situation, a miracle or even a meteor to fall out of the sky.

I need to stop panicking about everything, I know. However, worrying is in my blood.

You can never not watch your back when with Ace, let me tell you.

* * *

Walking at our calm, loose pace, Ace continues to bounce a little further ahead of me with his lazy gait. We have slowly, ever so slowly due to my stalling, and finally reached the restaurant. I . . . just cannot go into there. Not like last time. I know something will happen again.

So, I decide to stall a little bit longer. As long as I can attempt to try and manage at least.

"Um . . . Ace?" I ask him.

"Yeah, Rosie?"

"Uh . . . just wondering . . . how do you propose we pay for this?"

"Whadda you mean?"

"Well, I most certainly do not have enough beli for the two of us to spend on an extravagant meal, especially taking a large note on your egregious appetite."

"Psh, we will be fine. I have it all set and covered."

"Oh . . . You do?" Dammit.

"Yes, of course. Now come on. I'm so hungry, I'm prepared to eat you, and you're literally skin and bones!"

And so, Ace whisks me away into the restaurant. The fancy, upper class restaurant.

And together, I think we can all collectively say that Ace and I looked like the biggest stooges in the entire freaking village. Everyone else looked oh so nice and fancy. The women were all decked out in the most ravishingly beautiful dresses of every shade of rose petals there could be and the men, oh the men! They had on the best suits I've ever seen with ties to match the dresses of the women they had courted with them to dine.

And then . . . there was Ace and I. Two kids really.

Ace, who decided to not even attempt to wear a shirt, with his casual shorts and boots and the like, and then me, who decided to come in my green sweatpants, black combat boots and a black tube top. We were literally on a roll. Everyone decided to stare at us like Martians, and a blush the reddest hue possible decided to spring upon my face.

And yet, Ace, in all his glory, acted like nothing was going on and asked one of the men for a table for two. How he felt so natural or maybe he felt he didn't? I'm not really sure, truth-be-told. However, Ace somehow was able to quell any sort of awkward emotion that he could have presented and rather acted like a gentleman to me, even in his totally out of place attire. I wish I had such self-confidence, bloody hell.

When we approached the table, and guess where it was located? The upper floor, seeing as there were two, in the back, practically hidden and obscured from the more classily dressed people below. It was actually perfect and horribly hilarious that they would still serve us, even with us so out of place as we are. Maybe Ace just has that look that says, "Serve me no matter what".

I went to go take my chair and sit down, but Ace stops me. And then he decides to take the chair and move it so that I may sit.

"Oh? Okay, thank you, Ace."

He just nods in his casual demeanor and sits down across from me.

"Isn't this nice, Rosie? I think we can consider this moment in this restaurant as our first actual date, can't you?"

"So our walking through my great-aunt's village and you buying me that necklace doesn't constitute as an actual 'real' date?"

"Eh, pretty much. This atmosphere seems more legit, don't you agree?"

"You do realize they don't actually want to serve us, correct?"

Incredulously, Ace looks at me in shock. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Ace . . . it's a formal fucking restaurant and here we are, clearly renegades in all our pirate glory, looking like casual teenagers."

"Get out of here! It's a formal restaurant?! I couldn't even tell. Whatever, it's not a big deal."

I facepalm. I wish I was such a blissfully simpleminded child that could block out everything that happened around me. He really is one of a kind.

"So, what're you going to eat, Rosie?"

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. FOOD. Shit. I can't even right now.

"Um . . . we have a menu?"

"Yeah, right under your elbow stupid."

Glancing down, desperately believing he was actually lying so that he could succeed in making me feel gullible, I discover to my absolute horror that there seems to be a menu right below my freaking elbow. I quit.

"What are you getting?"

"Everything."

Giving a nervous giggle, I exclaim, "I do hope you're joking!"

"Psh, I'm so not joking. I'm totally going to eat everything on the menu. Food is food, my stomach is my stomach and boy, it's telling me that it desperately wants food."

"You speak to your stomach?"

"Yes, don't you?"

". . . No? Should I?!"

"Oh, most definitely." And this is where Ace starts getting randomly philosophical. "Speaking to one's stomach is . . . almost spiritual. It's a way to show mutual understanding from two organs in your body, the brain and the stomach, that the body is inevitably craving food. Together, the two organs work to both accept and digest the food, creating both nutrients and sustenance for one's body. It's fascinating, really."

"I swear, Ace, you literally just bullshitted that entire little monologue of yours in the span of ten seconds."

"Oooh really? And did it work?"

"No, actually, that entire thing was terrifying. If you weren't you, I'd have already proceeded to call upon a doctor for Schizophrenia or something of the sort. Who talks to their freaking stomach?!"

"This guy right here." Ace proudly points to himself.

"God, well whatever. I am so bizarrely weirded out by your behavior, Ace, that I'm just going to eat this onigiri instead."

"Good, so then we're ready to order!"

"I'm still so confused as to how you propose to pay for this? Where did you even procure enough beli to pay for even my portion alone?"

Ace doesn't answer and instead just gives me a doe-eyed look.

What. The. Fuck.

So. Not. My. Problem.

Or at least, it's not my problem for now. It will be later; I can already tell you that.

* * *

Despite common misconceptions, onigiri is not a form of sushi. Onigiri is made with plain rice, which is sometimes lightly salted, while on the other hand, sushi is made of rice with vinegar, sugar and salt. Onigiri is made from white rice formed into triangular or oval shapes and often wrapped in nori, which is seaweed. Traditionally, an onigiri is filled with pickled ume, also known as umeboshi, salted salmon, katsuobushi, kombu, tarako, or any other salty or sour ingredient as a natural preservative.

And let me just say, it is amazing. Literally to die for. I inhaled that part of my meal the minute the waiters brought it over to me. I was in my own quiet, little heaven.

Ace, however, was in his own glory. He could have probably been a gladiator fighting some violent creature the way he was gazing at his plate or should I say, _plates _of food as there were enough that three other carts were necessary to transport Ace's entire meal to him.

What the hell, Ace?

Who needs that much food, ever?

Maybe that's also why I hate food. There are people in the world starving, and then there's me, eating instead. I guess I just feel really awful about the entire concept that someone could die from starvation, and I can easily get food.

It sucks.

Anyways, Ace seriously took this whole, 'Let's eat thing' way too far.

I'm genuinely concerned that one day he may indeed just decide to blow up.

And if you honestly want my opinion on the matter, that better not happen. I really don't need to see, or even fathom, what something like Ace blowing up would actually look like.

That's a whole 'nother ball game, a whole new horror story and I truly don't want to welcome that into my already clearly fucked up mind. There's enough going on in there as is.

* * *

A Few Hours Later:

* * *

"You finally finished?"

"Heck yeah, Rosie! That has got to be one of the best meals I have ever had. So, so, so good! Why didn't you even order more?!"

"Because it finally hit me."

"Oi, what did?"

"We're practically broke, right?"

"What of it?"

"You're planning on running."

". . . No? Yes. No. I don't know. I was going to think of something once we got there."

"Oh, Ace? Guess what?"

"What?"

"We're here, you moron! They're going to kill us, literally. Screw Lord of the Flies! This entire situation just became Battle Royale!"

"Psh, we'll be fine, trust me."

"I did trust you! I still do! That's why I sat here believing you were somehow going to pull a miracle out from the middle of nowhere!"

"Aw, you trust me!~ And anyways, I did it for you. You've been so down, I seriously think you need some fun in your life."

"So . . . eating food and then running out of a restaurant without paying is your idea of a fun, good time?"

"Yeah, Thatch and I would do it all the time."

"Oh my goodness, Ace! How is that even fun!? And your friend, Thatch, clearly wasn't a good influence on you!"

"Nah, he was a great influence on me. He was a cook too. Literally amazing."

"Yeah? We're literally dead. I quit. I bet your friend, Marco, had to get you two idiots out of a whole bunch of shit like this too."

"Hell yeah! Marco is amazing like that. He always knows when to come in at all the right times."

"Like a deus ex machina?"

"Yeah! Exactly. He's so cool. You'll love the crew, by the way. I mean, they're all so fun loving. They'll find so many ways to crack into that little reclusive head of yours and bring out the fun Rosie I know."

"If we make it out of here, you mean?"

"Yeah, sure. I love that you say 'if' like you are actually doubting my skills or something. I mean, look at me."

I look at Ace, seriously reconsidering eating my amazing onigiri. Maybe if I puke it up they'll let us get away with it? Or maybe I could pretend I got food poisoning and threaten the wrath of my horrible father on them?

"I am Ace. And I am amazing. So, have no fear because Ace is here."

I'm going to kill him. Squash him like a bug.

Before I come back at Ace with a malicious comment, we were both interrupted by the manager.

"Are you two all set and ready to pay for your meals tonight?"

I glance at Ace.

He decides to not give either of us the time of day. So, instead of doing the polite thing, I brutally kick his shin from under the table.

Ace, in pain, bites his lip and looks at the manager. The manager, on the other hand, was watching our entire transaction with concerned eyes. At least I think they were concerned. Maybe on the inside he was getting pleasure out of seeing Ace in pain? Who knows?

"Yeah, my friend and I are ready to pay."

"Oh, all right. Then that'll be five."

I was ready to stop him at five. The rest of the amount can spewing out of his mouth and the number he said was so extravagant and extraordinary, there weren't enough zeroes in the world to follow that number.

The manager walked away with a smug grin on his face, eagerly anticipating the amount of beli he thought the two of us were going to procure in this tiny window of time.

What a joke.

"Son of a bitch."

That's all I hear from Ace's side of the table.

"What?"

"That manager guy? Yeah, well, he's got all his waiters stationed in the corners of the room. That wonderful run we decided on? That's going to have to be now."

"Wait, what? We're just going to run now?! Like right now?!"

"Obviously, blondie! Let's go!"

Ace roughly grabs my hand and pulls me with all his might, right up and onto his exposed back. And immediately after I secure my hands around his neck and my legs around his waist, Ace takes off running right on through the doors to the second floor, and all the way down the stairs.

I start to get the slightest bit queasy after all the bouncing of steps that Ace has to take down the staircase. Once we reach the actual entrance, a whole lot of waiters begins to trek after us.

And so let the race begin.

* * *

Ace ran for what seems like hours what with me on his back and all. I had had to have asked him at least seven times if he wanted me to get off of his back, but he refused. And truly, I noticed that Ace didn't even have difficulty breathing or carrying me for the entire journey away from the restaurant at the way down to the dock. It was amazing. I was genuinely jealous of the fact that he was so could at such an intense endurance run.

What a freaking powerhouse of a guy.

Once the two of us reached the dock, Ace carefully lowered me from my back, and placed me back down on the ground. Smirking all the while, Ace begins talking to me again - yeah it was silent during that entire, crazy run.

"Was that not one of the most exciting things to do?"

I look at him, absolutely awed that he was taking this entire event so well.

"You have got to be joking! Ace, we so totally just used up that restaurants food supply all on your stomach alone!"

"But it was fun. And I inevitably got to have a date with the prettiest girl in the world. And you actually ate the food they provided even though you hate food. I killed so many birds with one stone, it wasn't even funny."

I guess he had a point there.

"Well, then, what are we going to do now? We spent a little over three and a half hours at that restaurant what with the surplus of food you decide to eat and our long jaunt of a run we took. It's going to get dark out soon, and we so are not welcome anymore."

"One second."

"Wait, what?"

"I'll be able to eventually answer your question in one second. I want to ask and see if anybody around this part of town has any ideas on where Blackbeard will be. I know I spent the day to make you happy, and I'm sure it did, right?"

I nod, giving him the benefit of the doubt because that run was definitely exhilarating.

"Okay, well, you were right in concluding the fact that Blackbeard is sort of the highest priority right now, and seeing as we fled the scene of a restaurant, our date was cut a bit short. So, in truth, I now have the slightest bit of time to kill in which I shall ask if anyone has even the teeniest bit of information on that criminal."

"Oh, okay, that seems pretty logical."

"I know!"

". . ."

"What?"

"Aren't you going to go ask someone, Ace?!"

"Oh, oh yeah. Right, okay, let me go do that."

I facepalm for the second time that day.

* * *

Ace, after avidly searching and questioning a couple of the villagers, including a seven year old child, a nineteen year old kid, a mother of three kids and an old codger, was finally, finally able to uncover the fact that one of the old men of the village had in truth seen a man named Blackbeard here at one point. Ace and I discovered that he had been traveling to the next island over. So, together, Ace and I were able to procure a log pose to lead us to the next destination where we hoped Blackbeard would be.

Let's just hope that little old man was actually right.

I don't really feel like I need another "Fun-Time Field Trip with the Fire-Fist Ace" Day, if you know what I mean.

Once is most definitely enough.

* * *

A/N: And so there's Chapter . . . 20. Yeah, twenty. I totally forgot how far we were in this story already.

Time really does fly.

Anyways, I really hope you liked this chapter.

Review! Seriously, guests, and users, please do review. I love them. They make me cry happy tears. And they keep my stories in check.

And I'd also just like to quickly give a shout out to TheRealEvanSG and Outcast001 because you guys always make me really happy.

Happy Saturday! Seeing as it's almost over for me here.

xoxo


	22. Broken Glass

Well, after some time, here it is I.

I feel like I haven't updated in forever, even though it's only been like, what, three days or so? No matter, I have returned.

I've had like a serious and pathetic writing block . . . Oops. -Shrugs-

Then I decided, like the dolt I am, to finish Gossip Girl. I cried my eyes out. That ending, though . . . the feels. I literally had to mourn over my entire existence and realize I may never have a Dan Humphrey or a Chuck Bass in my life. And boy, that hit me like a bus. Or more like seven buses.

And then there's Tumblr and Sherlock . . . And life.

And then there's the fact that I'm currently writing this chapter rather late from where I am . . . So, I am, at the moment, heavily debating pushing it off until tomorrow. However, my good conscience is telling me to try for you lovies. So, try I shall.

We'll see how it goes, eh?

I mean, I just sat here, legit, for twenty minutes thinking of a title for the next chapter.

Anyways . . .

One Piece is all Oda's. And boy am I jealous of him. I get Rosalie though. That's a plus.

* * *

Chapter 21: Broken Glass

* * *

"It has been said, 'time heals all wounds.' I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone."

Well, that may be the case, and surely I do not have it in my power to question it, nor do I have the right, but I must say, my wounds have slowly-ever so slowly- begun to heal. Granted that Ace has become a methodical stimulant to cure my depression, life seems to slowly have gotten better-more in my favor.

Ace and I have both already grown up quite a bit in these last few days, what with the traveling, our relationship, Red's death – we're really not exactly the same kinds of kids we once were. Even if that sounds ridiculously stupid, or what not, please do understand what I'm trying to say, or attempting to say. I lost a lot of my childish naivetés, especially when I realized whom the man my father actually was, as well as the man Red used to be.

Truth-be-told, the world is a harsh, cruel world with a rollercoaster of highs and lows, and I slowly swing it back-and-forth, to and fro. However, I don't think I honestly fear death anymore. In truth, Red's death has taught me to embrace whichever outcome may one day befall me, and those close to me, and honestly, the weight of the world has been lifted off of my shoulders.

All we are is broken glass, my friends, but that doesn't mean we're beyond repair.

It simply means that: If you try to pick us up, you're gonna cut yourself.

* * *

Ace and I had left that quote-unquote 'Isle Del Rosa' in quite the interesting and, well, wonderful fashion. In all reality, I truly do not believe anyone was really surprised that a) Ace decided to eat, and did indeed consume, every damn item on the menu, and b) Ace would decide to jovially carry me upon his shoulders whilst running, or should I say sprinting, through the town to escape the restaurant waiters, and then decide to stop and get serious about Blackbeard yet again.

I mean . . . it wasn't even the slightest bit mind-blowing. By this time, I think we all know what really is and is not mind-blowing in this world, so . . . I'll just let that one concept lie where it is at the moment.

However, in all truth, I really do have to question where our journey will take us. I mean, you've all hopefully sat with me throughout my journey so far, probably laughing and crying, sometimes scrunching up your face, sometimes walking away thinking about what in God's name is wrong with me, right? Well, if we think from a rational standpoint, and I mean really r_ational_ standpoint, and I know, this is truly asking quite a bit from the world I live in at the moment, what is going to happen?

Thinking logically, Marshall D. Teach, commonly referred to as Blackbeard for ease of an alias, I assume, is the captain of the Blackbeard Pirates. This man, this monster, this killer, he's bad news. I mean . . . he clearly stole a totally powerful Devil-Fruit, previously held in Thatch's possession. If anyone can kill their said, "Friend," for a Devil-Fruit, there's something seriously wrong with them, ne? I mean, what the hell? It's a fruit, people. A fruit. Sure, it's totally different than your typical Granny-Smith, or better yet, Red Delicious Apples, but still. Just because it's pretty, and all swirly and crap, does not me that you should totally feel all impulsive and be all, "Let me go kill Thatch to get a fucking fruit," in a creepy maniacal and psychopathic voice. Like, please, get a life, sincerely all of my readers of my journal.

-Ahem- Not that I know anyone is reading this or not, I mean, I'm not that psychic –Cough, cough-

Anyways, we, meaning Ace and I, have to take that son of a bitch on. I, for one, and totally not prepared for an all-out battle of all brawls amongst Ace, myself, Blackbeard and his crew. That's one fight I'm skipping out on.

I mean, I barely understand that whole, "World peace; love and joy; love your neighbor," thing, so I dare not preach what I don't understand, but I mean . . . rationally speaking, I'm terrified.

And yes, this entire rant did hit me right now, on our Jet Ski, whilst floating on the sea. This stuff just hits me. Normal people get hit with some sort of freaking inspiration and then they become the world's next Picasso or Mozart. This kid? Nah, man, she gets hit with something else entirely: death threats from a man she hasn't even met.

I really am such a downer.

Anyways, that's my opening rant to Ace and my next chapter.

Pray with me that it'll be a brighter one, and a happier one, in which I actually smile and laugh and live. Lots of living. I need some life back into this adolescent and confused, quite often distraught, body of mine.

* * *

Slowly, I awake from another peaceful slumber in Ace's arms. Rather than wake old sleeping beauty behind me, I just calmly gaze at the ocean.

Ironically, the fact that I fear water more than I do quite a lot of things seems to be dwarfed when I simply just gaze at it. The crystal clear blue, with the swirling white tips on the waves, the beautiful fishes of all shapes, sizes, colors and families, or more like schools, yay fish terminology. I mean, just the polite symbolism of the ocean in it of itself is beautiful. It's pure, timeless poetry.

I feel like writing another one.

Taking out my pencil and a spare sheet of paper (Yes, I did eventually decide to stalk up on paper, because yes, I do have a short supply of such things. Aunt Lucy has literally everything. I think we all have that ONE family member in our lives, ne?)

_The Ocean Blue _

_By: Rosalie Cass_

_The swiftness_

_The limitless_

_The timelessness_

_It envelops me_

_My eyes, my heart, my soul_

_It captures me, beckons me to its siren call_

_It keeps me close, but also aware _

_That it may one day drown me there_

_And yet, I feel blissfulness_

_A joy so surreal_

_In that ocean_

_The Ocean Blue_

Satisfied with my epiphany of creativity, I place my writing utensil back into Ace's decorative and jazzy green bag and begin to fold the paper back into my journal, diary, whatchamacallit thingy. And to my avail, I have it snatched away from me.

Ace gives a lovely big yawn right into my awaiting ear. He then takes my simplistic little journal and opens it. In shock, I avidly attempt to reach for it, over and over again, but he's much to strong and quick for me.

"What's this, Rosie?" He asks curiously.

I run my left hand through my blonde hair, fidgeting, and trying to come up with a pathetic excuse for my lifeline to some sort of sanity.

Wait, hold up. I just said sanity, didn't I? Scratch that. Clearly, I'm mental. I mean, how many people can sit with someone as attractive as Ace (I mean come on, look at those freckles) and rather than salivate at the thought of kissing those lips, write at the prospect of one's death and rationally questioning people who may not even exist? I really, really need to get my head checked and my priorities straightened out.

"It's my . . . uh, m-my j-journal thingy?" I give Ace as innocent a look as I can. I can't believe it's been days and here I am , now, unfortunately blowing my only salvation and cover. Now Ace is going to read it. Nooooo.

He scoffs, "You have a journal? When in the hell do you have the free time to sit down and write about whatever you write about?"

"Uh . . . Insomniac, remember? I have, technically when I cannot sleep, all night if I so choose."

"Oh, right. You're stupid."

"Excuse me?"

"You could just wake me up and have me rock you back to sleep again. It's kind of my job." He affectionately pats my head, like a puppy or something.

"Ace, you sleep like a dead person. And what I mean is that, unlike me who doesn't move when she sleeps, you don't wake up. So, your reasoning wouldn't work. I could slam you with a hammer, and you'd remain in dream world."

"Oh . . . I mean, I guess." He shrugs. "By the way, can I read it?"

"Read . . . my journal? Why would you ever want to do that?"

"Well, I mean, you've had this since you were what, a child, right? I could learn a lot from this."

I shift uncomfortably. I mean, I'd love to share things with Ace. That's the fundamental thing in a relationship. Trust and openness leads to growth. I mean, we're talking foundation stuff here. But we're also looking at the introvert here. I just can't. Not yet, at least.

"Ace . . . I'd really rather we didn't have you sit and read my personal thoughts and feelings from when I was a wee child up until now. There's some really, really, _really_ dark, gruesome and sometimes morbid stuff in here. And then when it's not dark and so on, it's really depressing and just plain suicidal."

"You're really not a happy person, Rosie."

"I do write happy stuff! Like . . . stuff about you," I mumble.

"Oi, what was that? You write about whom?" He probes me, being that prat that he is.

"You, I like to write about you. And poetry. And lyrics to songs. And the nice things sometimes, at least."

"Ah, I see. So, I make you happy?"

"Well, isn't that obvious?"

Instead of even showing the slightest bit of an answer, Ace places the journal on top of his bag and moves his hand to my waist.

"Um . . . what are you-"

I can't finish because Ace begins to tickle my left love-handle of my body, and I start laughing. A real, uncontrollable fit of giggles washes right over me. I can't control the smile, or the happy tears that run down my face.

"S-stop! Ace!" I breathe out, continuing to laugh.

"Not until you kiss me~"

"I can't kiss you. Not if I can't-If I can't BREATHE!"

Finally, he stops, and lets me calm down. How considerate.

After collecting my breathing, I give Ace a small peck on the cheek, feeling that was sufficient.

"Rosie, that was pathetic. You are an embarrassment to all the lovable girls in the world around you."

My eyebrow arches and my face contorts itself in my utmost confusion.

"What?"

"You gotta kiss me like you really mean it. Like this!"

And Ace roughly grabs my chin and firmly kisses me on the lips, enveloping me with his arms. They were behind my head and on my waist and his hair, tickling my face. It was a really beautiful, long drawn out kiss if I were to rate it.

Though, knowing the square I am, any kiss is a banging one if you ask me, so maybe, just maybe, you shouldn't.

Finally, he lets me go.

"A little possessive today, Ace?"

"What do you mean?"

"Tickling me, kissing me. Never have I ever had so much affection on a morning such as this one."

"Well, good. I mean, knowing you, and no offense to this comment, I hope, you kind of missed every boat to love that there ever was."

My God. Did he read my horoscope?! It told me pretty much the exact same thing. Fate, why doth thou hate me so?

"All right, all right, I totally deserved that one. I'll let you read my journal. However, only parts of it-the parts I'm comfortable with sharing. And you must absolutely never share them with anyone else, nor may you ever judge the things I write, or feel in these pages, or I swear, I shall punch you, so help me God."

In mock defeat, Ace nods, clearly symbolizing his adhering to the rules.

"So, then, where shall we begin, Ace? I can take you on several adventures in this one chapter alone."

* * *

Whilst traveling to the next island, Ace and I delved into many of the notable chapters I had written about in my life.

And there were quite a lot of them. In fact, at one point, Ace had asked me if they were never-ending. And I laughed a real big, hearty laugh. Because it's true. Unless you really want to erase your life, your dreams and your memories from your life, if you keep a record like me, you can really see how far you've come.

Back then I was one of those kids that purely enjoyed bright colors and sunshine and . . . well, not hardcore rock music. And now? My clothing mainly consists of black, the sun scorches my eyes – just kidding, I don't condone vampirism, I just prefer the indoors. The sun is a pretty chill thing, which is such a paradox because the sun is actually a ball of hot air. And I love my rock. Love, love, love my rock.

Don't hate. I'm a pretty hardcore chick.

I miss my little kid days, though. I mean, don't get me wrong. There are many perks to adulthood-freedom, a love-life, and money, really anything under the sun. But as a little kid, that little naïve child, you could live life thinking that everyone was your friend and no one was coming to hurt you. It was a nice, simple mentality that just oozed, "I love my life." Nowadays, I'm screaming, "I hate everything about you."

Ace thought it was all very funny to see the changes in my life. He did have his side comments here and there, especially about the drastic changes I had gone through, but he never really judged me, nor did he laugh in a malicious way. It was really sweet of him, if I may be so bold as to actually be honest.

I mean, I've never even shared half of this journal-this memorabilia of my life. Ace just makes me feel safe, and loved. Slightly more so than Red, but it's probably because Red kept his boundaries with me. It did indeed turn out for the best. We all discovered he was a pirate after all.

Ah, well. Such is life, I digress.

* * *

"Rosie, I can't believe you had to give a talk in class about something going on in the world, and unlike every other kid in that room who decided to talk about the feud between Marines and Pirates, you brought up some deforestation in some random place barely one percent of the world's population has even heard about!"

He guffaws at my story for a solid ten minutes.

"What? Animals were dying. God, we have to save lives here, Ace. Humans aren't the only things on the planet!"

"Next thing I know, you're going to tell me that you went there and fostered a baby animal or something just to keep that one species of animal going."

I shrug my shoulders.

"No, seriously, though. That didn't happen, correct? Because I'm seriously rethinking your sanity at this point."

"I'm kidding. Of course not! I never left home until I went traveling with you. It just so happened that I felt very close to the animals in that region, okay? They were really cool, and special and . . . you know, animals."

Ace just gives me a look and then bursts out laughing. AGAIN.

"God, where did you come from? And what on Earth did your teacher say about that?"

"Oh, they all thought I'd gone bonkers. I mean, Pirates are always the talk of the world, correct? And here I am, daughter of a Marine, flipping out about some deforestation issue. If I can remember properly, I believe that she even stooped so low as to call my father over! We must have had a discussion about where my head actually was in the world. She told him that something must be missing in my little head if I could freak about some breed of wolf over some looting pirates. Ha! Poor lady, and here I am, with a freaking pirate!"

I grin at Ace in jubilee.

"My goodness, you're a strange one, Rosalie. And yet, I don't think I've ever, EVER, been more okay with a story like that in my entire life."

"Well, that's good. There's a lot more stories coming your way about my awkward teenage youth days where I'd either be the biggest klutz ever or I'd just completely mind fuck my teachers about some ridiculous fact I'd found out about from who knows where."

"Good. I like this. This is making the trip more relaxing. I hate it when you're that creepy quiet you. This you though? I like her. She's got a childish fire, and an inner feistiness, a renegade rebellion to the rules. It's nice."

"Eh, more like broken glass, man."

"How so?" Ace looks to me, intrigued.

"Oh, easy. I'll cut you if you mess with me specifically, or my friends and family. That's a promise."

"Ah, same. We're truly a perfect match, aren't we?"

"Yeah, I guess we really are."

Happily, we smile at each other. And then I begin reading my book again.

_We fought to rule the world_

_Not knowing just how fragile we really were_

_Like it was the first day of the rest of our lives_

_Then the bricks began to fall_

_And we could see the cracks along the wall_

_We didn't know it couldn't go on forever_

I truly hope Three Days Grace is lying to me.

This bliss needs to go on forever.

And ever.

* * *

A/N: Yeah, a totally pointless, "We're traveling!" chapter, but hey, it's a chapter nonetheless.

I keep forgetting to add in their awkward lovable moments, so there's just a few of them.

I'll see about an update tomorrow. -Shrugs indifferently-

Things will probably begin to pick up very soon.

Love you guys!

Please review.

xoxo


	23. Nerves

So, 'tis I, the esteemed author of this story, yet again staying up late and writing the next chapter in my story.

What does this mean? I need to get a life. Then again, you guys are my life, so disregard that.

Anyways, I didn't work primarily on this chapter today, ouch. Don't hate, don't hate.

My friend's cat died today and she was rather distraught. She loved that beautiful kitty to death, so I just had to console her. That took up a good portion of my day.

And also:

I actually wrote a prologue to a new fanfic called: _Hope of Morning._ It's a Katekyo Hitman Reborn! Fic, so if you guys love that series, be sure to read up on my prologue and review.

However, just because I started that one, it doesn't mean I'm just not doing this one. _Finding Me _is my first fic, my initial story and my go-to for emotions and sentimentality and what not – as I'm sure you've all noticed. I love this story with all my heart and soul, even if at times my writing is kind of weird, and awkward. Your reviews, follows and favorites make me cry happy tears of joy. That's what keeps me writing.

I've already bonded with so many people, so of course I'll continue writing. Duh!

So, _Finding Me_ comes first. _Hope of Morning_ is more or less a trial run for me to see if anyone is interested, and if so, to of course, keep reading and reviewing and telling me what they want to see. Naturally, that's just a different take on a story for me with a lot longer chapters.

I'm growing.

And yes, I do have some minor writing block still. It's a thing.

So, anyways, please read, review and enjoy my latest chapter.

Their search actually takes a more serious note today.

One Piece belongs to Oda, Rosalie belongs to me.

* * *

Chapter 22: Nerves

* * *

"Take up one idea. Make that one idea your life - think of it, dream of it, live on that idea. Let the brain, muscles, nerves, every part of your body, be full of that idea, and just leave every other idea alone. This is the way to success, that is way great spiritual giants are produced."

Quotes are not just words uttered out from a wise person's mouth. Quotes are stories with lives, countless lives, lying beyond the beyond. The wise person who dared speak their minds turns out to be the wise person who changed lives.

Ace and my interdependent journey started with an idea, and will inevitably end with an idea.

Nevertheless, Ace and I will finish this journey together. Our problem is . . . actually getting there first, which seems to be happening in just about never.

* * *

Grumbling whilst rocking through the patches of course, grainy ash-gray rocks, I murmur complaints to Ace. "The rocks are cutting through my boots. They're stabbing at my heels, and the soles of my feet."

Rolling his eyes, Ace continues onward like the powerhouse he is. What I would give to have boundless energy such as that!

"You know, Rosie," he starts. "People have to walk up these paths every single day. So, deal with your random 'stone-hate' for the moment and actually get a move on. I have an agenda today."

Scrunching up my face in mock humor, I ask, "You have an agenda? You?!"

"Psh, don't belittle me, Rosie. 'Course, of course I have an agenda. We've had some really restful days, but we really need to get a move on. Blackbeard does not happen to be sitting in a nice, big lounge chair whilst sipping tea just so wondering when the two of us will come to get him. I mean, seriously?"

"Well, duh!" I exclaim in annoyance. "We're talking about a criminal. Naturally, the freak wouldn't just so happen to wait for the two of us to amble right into wherever the hell his latest domain is so that we could kill him! He's got his own agenda."

"Well, then, good. I'm glad we've established the fact that you need to stop whining."

"Hold up! We did NOT just establish that fact. I just happened to agree with you on the idea that Blackbeard is not waiting for us to walk up in purposeful strides and take his big head."

"Uh huh, sure, that's exactly what we just discussed. Keep walking, Miss Lazy."

"Says the guy who sleeps more than anyone I've ever seen."

"Anyone looks like they sleep a lot when you're a freaking insomniac!"

"Touché. I get you're point."

"Good, let's go."

Grabbing my hand, the two of us, me being unhappy and sulky, Ace being ecstatic and positively pumped for an adventure, march onwards. Joy. O joyous day! O happy day!

God, I can't do long walks, especially in these old warn out boots.

* * *

Ace and I had eventually searched the island's village high and low for any many even only slightly resembling Blackbeard. To no avail, it would seem. Ace and I could not see any man like that, nor any rowdy, raucous pirate crew. It was all rather disappointing.

I mean, after I got a life and bared the pain of walking up and all around town, you'd think Ace and I would at least get some sort of hint, or even reward to our pathetically valiant efforts. However, we got nothing. Not a darn thing. It's so depressing.

In my anger, I started singing. Right out-loud too, because at this point, I wasn't in the mood for a 'nice' chat with Ace, nor my own thoughts. They weren't helping me now, walking and continuing to think them wouldn't help me out much either.

So, I start to sing "Nerves" by Icon For Hire:

_Oh I hate your static pace, you ask no questions, let things be_

_All you people never learn, and your heart gets on my nerves_

_And your heart gets on my nerves, and your heart gets on my nerves_

Ace looks at me, surprised I would be the one to randomly break the silence through song. I continue on, however. It was helping.

_We were born kicking and screaming_

_Until we learned to turn it down_

"Kicking and screaming, Rosie? Wow. I always knew you were a nutter, but this tops even you." Ace starts laughing. I shake my head.

_Took our dreams and got in line_

_Held our breath and hoped to die_

_Fade on_

_And all along, we got it wrong_

_Live a slow and painful life_

_Put our heart on hold inside_

_Fade on_

_And all along, we got it wrong_

_Oh we keep it hush hush hush_

_Have you had enough, have you, have you had enough?_

_Took our dreams and got in line_

_Held our breath and hoped to die_

_Fade on_

_And all along, we got it wrong_

I stop at the end of the chorus, getting whatever anger left in me out. Music really does cleanse the soul.

"I like your voice, y'know? It's like deep, but a pretty deep. It's low enough that you can hear a lot of pain in your voice, but it's clear you can raise it to rather high octaves as well. I like it. And there's a touch, a slight sprinkling of a rasp in there. It's a nice touch."

"Ace . . . did you just embark on a musical conversation with me?" I ask him in disbelief. I mean, he's a pirate. What pirate, unless you're a musician, even knows what an octave is?

Scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment, Ace mumbles out an inaudible reply.

"Eh?! What was that, Mr. Musical Cowboy?"

"I said I knew a girl. She liked music too."

"That's . . . all you're going to give me? Wow, thanks for speaking your mind, Ace. I truly was enlightened today."

"Shut it, I'm getting to it."

". . ."

"Ace . . . I am still here you know? I'm waiting."

"Eh, oh, God, you're a stubborn thing sometimes, Rosalie. Making me talk about random girls I've met."

"I'm a random girl you've met."

"Well, yeah, but . . . Oh, never mind. So, her name was Evelyn, but she totally hated that name. I, for one, have never understood the whole, 'I'm a girl and I totally hate my name, so I'm going to give myself a nickname or an alias thing.' Like, who cares?"

"Ace, you totally just went off on a tangent to piss me off, did you not? Let me guess, her name was Evie?"

"Actually, no, I just really wanted to know why girls are like that. And actually, she liked to be called Lynne." I scrunched up my nose on that one. If I had an alias, my God, it would be something kickass and epic. It'd be one of those names in which everyone who hears it stops and just relishes that name, both in jealous and reverence.

I am such a loser.

"Lynne? That's nice; she took the second half of her name."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. So, Lynne really loved music. She was obsessed really, much like you, but she wasn't nearly as good as a prodigy such as yourself. She played the cello, and she sang as well. She really loved singing. The cello was more of an awkward pastime for her."

I shake my head. The way Ace decides to describe things sometimes: mind-blowing. "The cello was an 'awkward pastime' for her? Wow, Ace, way to politely say she sucked."

"Oi, I'm keeping it real. She wasn't that good."

"Okay, okay, says the man who can't sing, dance or play. That was such a pot calling the kettle black moment."

"What the hell does that even mean? You and your stupid idioms. And I can totally dance."

"Uh huh. It means you're a bloody hypocrite! Continue with your story!"

"Oh, okay, so one time she was on her cello and I was thoroughly exhausted after hearing her play some piece for a straight hour. She really improved in that hour alone, yes; I'll grant her that one, but man, was it boring after the fifteenth time! I mean, it's the same melody and patterns of notes after a long while. I felt like I had been playing the damned thing with her. So, out of my obsolete boredom, I asked her to do anything else. And she listened."

"So, she sang for you? What, was she in love or something?"

"You're in love with me, and yet you don't sing for me!" Ace mock pouts.

"I just did less than ten minutes ago! Where were you?!"

"Psh, that doesn't count. This girl went all out on me, belting notes out left and right. She was amazing."

"Uh huh. So my little quiet serenade was . . . pathetic in comparison."

"No, it was just pathetic because you didn't even finish the song."

"Whatever, Ace! Continue!"

"Ah, right, right. Where was I? Ah, yes, she was singing for me. So, after she gave me her performance, I was really genuinely curious as to what she was actually singing and how. So she showed me the different octaves, how to read notes and look at the measures and key signatures. It was all really complicated and really cool at the same time. I was upset when I left because in truth, I really wanted to learn how to play guitar."

"Oh . . . guitar is easy! I can teach you that in a heartbeat!"

"W-wait. Hold up. You can?!"

"Oh yeah, totally. It'll be so easy. We'll do that after our search. That's my promise to you."

Ace hugs me in gratitude. "Oh, thank you, Rosie! I love you so much!"

The severity of the hug Ace gives me is enough to get me to stop breathing.

"Ace, you're cutting off my airways."

"Oh, oh sorry. So, that was my story."

"Right . . . Moving on then."

"What?! You didn't like it?"

"Was I supposed to?"

"ROSIE!"

* * *

Ace and I should officially be deemed as lost causes. I mean our search got us nowhere. Instead, all we got out of it was a ridiculous story about some randomly weird love life between Ace and Lynne whom we can honestly all agree and say that she cannot play the cello. Shockers there. That's a really hard instrument.

"Music is the divine way to tell beautiful, poetic things to the heart."

A famous cellist once said that said quote above (^). And it's true. Music is amazing – if you can play it. And no offense, but clearly Lynne could NOT.

Anyways, as splendid as it was talking about her, we really need to move on. Like, now. And literally start again. All over again.

"Ace, we have no leads yet again. What now?"

"We try our luck and ask around again?" He shrugs. "I'm a bit lost myself. I mean, I know this isn't an easy task for us already, but now, well, the odds aren't really in our favor."

"If only some big, random guy pulled a deus ex machine and popped out of nowhere."

Ace just looked at me like I was mental. "I think we'd do better actually asking around versus conjuring up random images in our heads and pretending that something, or more like someone, will come from the heavens and help us."

"Oh, please, you're just jealous. My plan is flawless."

"Rosalie, it's ridiculous. Where the hell would some random man come from looking like Blackbeard?!"

"Um . . . right there?" I ask and point to the left of us.

There stands a man, a round man with relatively thin limbs, and fluffy black hair with the top tucked in by a bandana. He also has a goatee, and he wears round glasses, a white a-shirt with a cross on the front, striped-patterned pants, white shoes. Finishing off his look, he dons a doctor's coat.

"Holy shit! That's got to be him! Good eyes, Rosie!"

And before Ace and I can even devise a sort of even partially logical plan, Ace is off. In his angst, Ace kicks him to the ground, which inevitably angers the entire crowd around us.

"ACE! You cannot, I repeat, CANNOT just kick random people, no matter who they are!"

Ace gets up, still in a ridiculously heated fashion.

"Well, shit, I'm sorry. It just so happens to be that I've been avidly searching for this man, Rosalie!"

"Yeah, I know. I'm well aware, but that was insane, Ace."

"What. The. Hell. Is. Wrong. With. You. Two."

Ace and I stop, paralyzed for a second. With both, on the count of three, turn around and face the man we took for as Blackbeard. To our surprise, this man was NOT Blackbeard.

Fate really hates us. And Karma's a bitch, so we were really out of luck there.

In embarrassment, Ace holds his neck and awkwardly maneuvers closer to my side. "Sorry, for . . . uh, kicking you in the face. We mistook you for another man. So, sorry?"

Instead of responding, out of complete and utter rage, the man, whom we discover to be known as Dr. Black Beard or Dr. Kurotsuru, grabs both Ace and I by the roots of our hair (Ow, thanks a lot Ace. I have hair more than fifteen times the length of yours. Way to go.) and kicks us into the river, along with the other spectator's greatly angered by Ace's random kicking attack from the air.

So, together, Ace and I tumble, rather unfortunately, into the river getting soaking wet and looking like the fools I guess we sort of were.

* * *

We really are back to stage one again, aren't we, Ace?

* * *

"Whenever a man does a thoroughly stupid thing, it is always from the noblest motives."

Oscar Wilde hit the nail on the head there. Literally. That's Ace and I today.

Unfortunately, no one can even begin to fathom our motives as noble. And technically, it's true. How can killing a man for killing another man seem noble? It's more or less a killing-ception than anything else in the world.

If only Ace and I had actually accurately and logically come up with a decisive plan that would have led to us not a) getting violently tossed into the river, b) ending up soaking wet, embarrassed and pitiful in public and c) having to sit on our Jet Ski and travel because we were forced to leave the island.

Now, we have nothing, nothing whatsoever. And we're wet. I mean, it's cold enough out on the sea at night. This bites.

In a silent remorse, I stifle whatever feelings of hate I have for the moment. The people were only defending themselves. I need to respect that.

Ace breaks my quiet moment of Reconciliation for the townspeople. "It'll all be okay eventually, Rosie. It was my fault, and as a punishment, I'll fix it, I promise."

"And I believe you. I mean, how else would we have made it this far, anyways? It's totally fine. As long as we have a blanket – we do have a blanket, correct?"

"Uh . . . I don't need a blanket. I'm the Fire-Fist Ace, y'know?" Ace awkwardly reminds me of that fact. "I'm actually . . . dry at the moment. I heated right up."

"Bloody hell, I hate you."

"No, no, come here. We can snuggle and I can spread the wealth of my warmth. Come on, don't be a baby."

In a heartbeat, I was in Ace's arms. The cold and water really don't jive.

And the problem is, no one besides Ace and I, really cares . . .

Ouch.

* * *

Where will our adventures take us next, I wonder?

* * *

A/N: There's my nice, Chapter 22 before I go to bed. I'm so tired after writing this.

I hope it was good enough for now.

Poor Ace and Rosie. They have it hard.

Ah, well. Reviews welcomed!

Happy Wednesday, or Thursday, whichever.

xoxoxo


	24. I Want Nothing More

Aye, hello, bonjour, salut, (hello in whatever other language that is currently not coming to me at the moment) my dear, lovely readers whom I so do enjoy to see favoriting, following and reviewing my story, _Finding Me._

I'd just like to give an announcement before I let you guys begin the next chapter:

Personally, today was really different for me, in an emotional sense. I was crying and such, so I really have a strange mood at the moment; it's a mix of depression and a sort of emptiness, probably because I haven't actually had time to cry in so long.

Either way, I'm going to write this chapter no matter what.

However, as a heads-up, tomorrow is a very special day to me, and it's a really depressing and unhappy one at that. As a warning, I'd just like to inform you I may not update the rest of the weekend due to Good Friday, Holy Saturday and Easter Sunday. If I do get around to it, it'll have to be Saturday.

On a happier note, as requested, Ace and Rosie will have a happier chapter today and a more carefree one again. I needed to lighten both their moods and my own mood after today.

So, here's chapter 23, my lovely readers. I hope you enjoy.

And as usual, One Piece belongs to Oda.

* * *

Chapter 23: I Want Nothing More than to Dance with You

* * *

Ace is a heavy man. He may look slighter than other men, especially in the world we live in, but that notion is not only misleading, it is arbitrary and completely and utterly incorrect. I had to carry Ace out from that river, both of us weighed down by our now soaking wet and horribly muddied clothing. That was enough to have me pulling my hair out. And then, upon having safely removed Ace from the water, we were then gruesomely rushed out from the village on account of our small little tirade we, unfortunately, decided to pull on a man we did not know.

The poor guy, bless his heart. Ace has big clod-hoppers of a boot and boy, do I know those could definitely pull a mighty fine sort of kick. I'd have simply gone crossed eyed if I had to even fathom suffering the same fate as the supposed "Dr. Black Beard". However, I do believe he blew that entire situation out of proportion, what with throwing us from solid ground right into a cold river. The audacity of that man!

And then . . . the villagers. Oh the villagers! Did they really, honest to goodness, really have to chase us out the minute we exited from the river?!

God, it was so not our day - not one freaking bit.

* * *

Neither Ace nor I even had the slightest bit of energy to picker, even after he had lightly pulled me into his lap and cradled me to keep me warm.

Even after a nice rest, both of us were still exhausted. However, the reason this time was completely acceptable and rather easy to understand. We were mentally drained and physically worn out. We had not intended for our hunt after Blackbeard to turn into a wild goose chase with my psycho relatives, crazy people at restaurants and insanely scary look-a-like doppelgangers. It would just so happy to be our luck that a man would look similar to the one we've had our eyes on for a long while now.

So, together, Ace and I waited in a wordless silence. We weren't angry; mind you, we were just reasonably disappointed. You can only go for so long before you start to break down and realize some things really aren't as easy as you had hoped and planned they would be.

Taking in a sharp intake of air, I gaze out to the limitless sea. "We should go . . . and do something for us for once," I mumble.

Ace stops moving along the Jet Ski, clearly formulating his opinion on the idea. "This idea of yours, it isn't food related, correct? Because we've really been striking out," he asks me in a slightly nervous tone.

"Well, obviously not! I just think that the two of us should . . . well, we should . . ." In my embarrassment, I have difficulty, a real difficult time, trying to find the words that just don't want to come tumbling out of my mouth, be they on the tip of my rosy red tongue or not.

Ace continues to probe me, however. "We should what?"

I clear my throat and suck it up. "We should go . . . well, dancing together, or something. You know . . . do something I like – something musical – as well as something you enjoying listening to. Plus, you said you knew how to dance, and I . . . wouldn't have any qualms having you . . . dance with me."

Ace stops moving for a moment, and I feel that I will soon be made a mockery out of. To my surprise, Ace doesn't decide to make me feel absolutely horrible about devising a plan – a happy plan – to raise our spirits.

"You know, Rosie," he starts. "If you wanted to go dancing with me, all you had to do was ask. I would hate to sit, or stand here, and think that you were uncomfortable actually asking me such a question. I'd love to, just for you. I personally think that's it a reasonable, and seriously amazing idea. You never ever give yourself enough credit. Stop being so hard on yourself and actually live a little."

I nod, just happy he didn't decide to chew me out for something ridiculous. That's definitely something my father would have done. Whenever I had a stroke of brilliance, or at least *I* thought it was a brilliant idea of mine, he would laugh at it, or at me. Or better yet, he'd take what I wrote, or drew and throw it in the trash. I think once, he even burned a school paper because I got a ninety out of one-hundred and he felt that it simply wasn't good enough.

"One should not waste their time drawing pictures and fantasizing fantastical concepts and creations that will never be," he said.

So, of course, even with Ace I was rather skeptical about whether or not he'd actually like the idea I proposed. Thankfully, Ace is nothing like my father. He understands the necessity of one's ideas and imagination. I'm just nervous about actually . . . dancing with him.

What does this make this . . . outing the two of us are doing this time?

Is it a date, again?

It just makes me so . . . uncomfortable sometimes knowing and realizing that Ace and I are actually an item.

I love being with Ace, don't get me wrong, or misunderstand me. I love his beautiful array of light brown freckles that don his cheeks. I love his dark hair that splays all around at the most random and awkward directions – the ones that tickle his face and cover his eyes. I love his eyes, those warm, friendly, welcoming eyes. However, love – it's still random, foreign, and strange even.

I just can't even begin to wrap my confused blonde brain around it.

I know Ace isn't uncomfortable with it. He loves me. He loves being with me.

But Ace is a _lovable, amicable, heroic and kind_ person.

Rosalie Cass is not. I am not.

And I can't, for the life of me, figure out how to put the pieces of the puzzle together. I'm a person with every organ in the body fully functioning and operating to perfection. All except for my ridiculous heart, that is.

It seems that I just cannot get it down. My heart pounds to the beat of a different drum than most other people's hearts, as it would appear. And quite frankly, I do not think that's a good thing. If one is destined to get on the bandwagon for something, I'd really want it to be about loving someone.

Instead, I got stuck with the cigarette bandwagon. Way to go, Rosalie! You deserve a gold freaking star for that accomplishment in your already horribly dull, death-like life.

* * *

'_Should I write another poem before we reach the island? I think I will." _

Thinking to myself, I decide to write about any sort of feeling still present in my head, my heart and my soul before Ace and I . . . go out together, again.

_You_

_By: Rosalie Cass_

_When the lights grow dim, and the house_

_It darkens_

_When the hearts grow weary, and the lark_

_It harkens_

_When the stones grow smooth, and the river_

_It runs_

_When the path grows old, and the sun_

_It shuns_

_I will never, never forget you_

_When the darkness consumes, and the people_

_They are consumed_

_When the shadows branch out, and the animals _

_They are entombed_

_When the heat carries on, and the plants_

_They are doomed_

_You and I _

_We bloomed_

_Our love is just_

_Our love is real_

_Our love is ours_

_It is so surreal_

_But this love of ours_

_It is at times, _

_Unreal_

_For our love of ours_

_It pains me to feel._

After writing that poem, I get a bit emotional, and upset, again blaming myself for things that I probably do not even have the slightest bit of a right to blame myself for.

Sometimes, I can never just properly accept things in my head – not until they are written, unfortunately.

God, Ace, why is love so hard?

How can you love some rock hard kid like me? You poor, poor, unfortunate soul whom I love. You really did get the short end of the stick, my dear.

* * *

Ace and I had eventually gotten to the port, politely tethering our Jet Ski up to one of the poles on the dock. Ace helped me up, and me, being the paranoid child I am, double checked to make sure we had what we needed.

"Luckily we got here quite late."

"Why is that, Ace?"

"Because typically the rowdy ones don't come out until later at night. Now, we have the most liberty and freedom to have as much fun as we want, don't you agree?"

"I . . . guess? I don't really know. I definitely haven't had the pleasure of doing something like this."

"Ah, yes, how could I forget?! The beautiful Miss Rosalie Catherine Cass, living the sheltered and unfortunately pompous life as the Commodore Mikael's daughter. How horrid!" Ace stops to laugh a bit at his joking banter. "We're going to have fun. Okay, Rosie? We are here to have _fun._ No rules, no regulations, no grumpy old men and women, and sure as hell, no cranky parents coming to whisk away their beautiful kids. Okay?"

I nod, laughing at Ace's assertive tone.

"Good, then let us go, please, before I decide to continue to torture you by making fun of you."

"Now, how is that fair?"

"Well, my dear, you tend to make fun of me every chance you get."

"Out of spite! That's it. Out. Of. Spite."

"Oh, and what I'm doing at the present moment is just oh so different?"

". . . Well, no."

"You see? It is as easy as it gets. Now come on! We haven't got all day!"

* * *

Ace, somehow, found a relatively large "club" area, as I guess one would call it. How he found it beats me. Either he decided to follow the smell of cheap alcohol, or he's secretly a bloodhound hybrid out for a good time.

I didn't mind, as long as he didn't expect me to guide him.

"Now, Rosie, you insinuated you can dance, correct?"

"Hm, oh, yeah. Yeah, Mikael told me it was my job to learn how to dance a whole bunch of dances."

"What? Why?"

"Oh, because when I ever got inducted into the Marines, there was to be a large, brilliant and majestic gala with food and dance, and if the Commodore's own daughter could not even do a simple dance, it would be forever looked down upon in embarrassment. God, learning all those routines was the most irritating couple of months of my entire existence."

"That's so stupid. I never learned a proper 'dance' and I can still have one hell of a good time. Screw your fancy routines, miss. We're going freestyle tonight!"

Ace grabs me in excitement.

And off we go.

(I'm almost more nervous to be with Ace than I am to actually be in public, _dancing _of all the damn things too.)

* * *

Before we actually started dancing with the crowds – there were a lot of them, mind you – Ace decided that we should both have a drink first.

My father never gave me alcohol, but Red did. And don't go after his dead body admonishing him for giving a minor a drink. Red told me I needed to live a little, so I had some red wine. That was literally nothing over the top.

However, today, Ace gave me a surplus of sake. Enough to get me loose enough to do literally anything with him.

And anything we did. (Dammit. This is so getting me later in life.)

Ace and I danced for so long to the most upbeat and dance-like music you could imagine. We spun around with each other, danced like absolute goofballs and even at one point, Ace decided to throw me in the air, and catch me bridal style.

We were the life, the legit life, of the party. Everyone wanted to dance with Ace and I. I don't think I've ever smiled so much in my entire life. It was perpetually on my face, and it seemed to really want to reach my ears.

I probably looked a complete mess, all red in the face, and my hair knotted, wispy and flowing ever so ungracefully around my face. But I was happy, ecstatic and just at peace, even for just a few short hours.

After a while, Ace and I decided to take a break and recoup on some lost energy.

"Isn't it fun to have fun, Rosie?"

Smiling I reply, "'Course it is! I haven't had this much fun ever. You're crazy, Portgas D. Ace, you know that?"

"Hell yeah, and I'm proud of it!"

Laughing uncontrollably, Ace and I continue to be our silly drunken selves.

After so much intense party music, a random slow song beings to play. It's one I've heard before, one I know the lyrics to.

"Ace," I begin in my excitement. "We have to dance to this! I love this song."

So, Ace playfully grabs my arm and off we go.

[The song that plays is Little Deschutes by Laura Veirs]

_It sure is hard to dance across_

Ace grabs my hand and waist with his large, strong and forever warm hands, now constantly holding me close to his chest.

_The room when you've got_

He breathes in, and leans down rather close to my face, inevitably encompassing my body.

_One foot on the floor_

He then places his left foot between the two of mine.

_And one foot outside the door_

And I follow his lead, putting my right foot farther behind my body.

_I want nothing more_

And together we dance our slow, beautifully romantic dance.

_Than to dance with you_

We sway jovially together.

_The peace I've known, floating along_

We kiss passionately together.

_The deep green river with you and a song_

We laugh happily together.

_Is something like the peace I hope_

We smile goofily together.

_To make with you my whole life long_

We hug each other close.

_I want nothing more_

And we lean our foreheads onto the others, just enjoying each other's company.

_Than to float with you_

And together, we float in our drunken highs, happy, and blissfully full of young love and passionate desire.

"I love you, Ace," I whisper.

"I love you, Rosie," he whispers back.

* * *

"There is never a time or place for true love. It happens accidentally, in a heartbeat, in a single flashing, throbbing moment."

Ace and I fell for each other purely out of coincidence. And I couldn't be happier.

Love is just.

Love is true.

Love sucks at times.

But it's worth it in the end.

I may not be the best girlfriend in the world, or the happiest in one's life, but I can learn to be one.

Ace just once again proved such a concept to me. And I shall forever hold onto such an idea with both hands – tightly grasped.

I will love Ace, with all my might just as he loved me.

"Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage."

I know now that I officially have been given both. It's what I do with these God given gifts, given through Ace, now that will define me as a person in this world, on this planet, forever.

Forever and always, with Ace.

Happily always and forever, with Ace.

* * *

A/N: And there it is.

I tried to go for something as nice and romantic as I could.

I loved this chapter, truth-be-told. I was honestly nervous it wouldn't come out nearly as well as I had hoped, and yet, I think I did it.

All of the words, ideas, phrases and lyrics just . . . came to me.

And it was amazing.

Review!

Happy reading.

I love you guys.

(And I hope the dance scene was good :] –mittensx7768)

xoxoxo


	25. Lithium

[I technically was going to put this up yesterday night, but for some reason my computer wouldn't let me upload my chapter. :( So, here's the yesterday chapter, and another one will probably come today.]

So, I decided, even though I had already previously decided that I wouldn't, that I'm going to write another chapter. However, this chapter is going to be another rough one . . . meaning: more death.

Today's a dark and depressing day for me . . . So death seems to be the way to go. Unfortunately, it's going to be ridiculously depressing. Forgive me.

On that already rather downward note, thank you for all the views, reviews, favorites and follows. You guys make me really happy, so thanks a million.

I also hope you enjoy the chapter, no matter how depressing it may be, or is.

Happy/depressed/heart-felt reading then. ^.^

And as usual, One Piece belongs to Oda, and Rosalie and Lucy belong to me.

* * *

Chapter 24: Lithium

* * *

"People are afraid of themselves, of their own reality; their feelings most of all. People talk about how great love is, but that's bullshit. Love hurts. Feelings are disturbing. People are taught that pain is evil and dangerous. How can they deal with love if they're afraid to feel? Pain is meant to wake us up. People try to hide their pain. But they're wrong. Pain is something to carry, like a radio. You feel your strength in the experience of pain. It's all in how you carry it. That's what matters. Pain is a feeling. Your feelings are a part of you. Your own reality. If you feel ashamed of them, and hide them, you're letting society destroy your reality. You should stand up for your right to feel your pain."

Assured by my Great-Aunt Lucy, I learned and believed that pain was something to embrace rather than to fear. Ace and I decided that we needed to have me embrace the pain of Red's death, his execution, so that I may be able to breathe well and easy, no matter the losses I have suffered.

However, my Great-Aunt Lucy failed to see her fate, as did I. Unfortunately, her demise is another laced with both death and deception. And I, moreover, will fail to see that as well.

How was I to know that someone would ever come after that old coot?

* * *

Ace and I really had worn ourselves out with all that dancing. We truly were crazy kids last night, but it was fun, so much fun! I don't think I've ever felt so fun and carefree in ages. Not until I met Ace that is. And personally, we "probably" shouldn't have had that much alcohol. (?) Ah, well, either way . . . it was exciting and carefree.

The unfortunate thing was: We were so tired; I actually found I was unable to walk out from the club. And yet Ace, in all his immeasurable strength and state of drunkenness, was able to hold me and carry me, bridal style of course, to an inn and even went as far as to purchase a room. The guy is amazing.

Ace slowly approached the room with me in my tired state, and unlocked the large, brown door. Walking over to the bed, Ace carefully unfolded the covers, placing me on the downy sheets, and then covered me with them.

He then walked on into the bathroom, and took a bath. I slept into a deep slumber – an unfortunate nightmare.

* * *

_Lucy McCallum, sleeping in a peaceful slumber, was awakened by Anne, her helpful servant - if you will – and friend._

"_Miss Lucy! Miss Lucy! You have a visitor requesting your immediate presence."_

"_Whom do you mean?" Lucy asked, clearly annoyed to be up at this unfortunate and ridiculous hour._

"_Your nephew, Thomas, is here. You know? The one that had captured Miss Rosalie." Anne hinted to Lucy, trying to grasp at anything in her memory banks._

"_Oh? Hm, Thomas? Ah, yes, _that_ nephew. Well, this is one conversation destined to be, wasn't it?"_

"_If that is how you feel, Miss Lucy. Shall I get your clothes?"_

"_If you would."_

"_Yes, ma'am, I shall. Please wait."_

_And so, Anne and Lucy prepared to speak with Thomas, the unfortunate Marine of an uncle, and a certain creep of one at that._

* * *

"_Tom, do sit down. I don't know what it is about this part of the family, but no one seems to know and understand proper etiquette when invited into one's home. Just because I'm your aunt, it does not mean I will baby you."_

_Tom looked at her with a spiteful gaze, but did as he was told. "I know you understand that I no longer view you as an elder, correct?"_

"_Ah, yes, I am well aware. State your purpose, you ingrate."_

_Anne proceeds to give Lucy some chamomile tea whilst waiting for Tom's reason for the "visit". _

"_I think you know: Rosalie Cass, your great-niece. I believe the two of you had a nice chat only a short while ago."_

"_A nice chat? Pish-posh. That child is almost as nearly as hopeless as you are. I tried to instill the slightest bit of wisdom into her, and look where it's gotten me? My darn nephew yelling at me! Who could believe it?!"_

"_Quit playing around, you old coot. Where is she?"_

"_Now, now young man, do not admonish your elders. I don't know her location, or her plans to where she's going. All I know is that she was sent, by me nonetheless, with Ace to some destination. I was their mediator, and let me just say, my plans were put to fruition deliciously well. They're quite happy, so I would honestly recommend you leave the two of them alone."_

"_Oh, if I even had the slightest care in the world, I still wouldn't leave them alone. Big things are coming, don't you know? __Red is dead. You hear me? _Dead._"_

_At this remark, Lucy chokes on her tea. "You jest me, you vile boy."_

"_Ha! You believe me to be a liar? I watched the procession of the execution with my own two bloody eyes! Mikael handed him over to Fleet Admiral Sengoku himself. He died for that stupid, uncontrollable menace he raised. That damn Rosalie screwed everything up. She needs to be restrained and taught the correct way to live one's life. The path of the Marines is the only path - not this stupid crazed idea of a pirate's life."_

"_H'he's dead. I cannot believe he has died. Mikael sent him himself? How dare he? Who gave that fool the right? Does he not understand how unhappy his own damn kid is? Now we have another heart to mourn over. Her life is her own, Thomas. You do_ not_ have the right to meddle into it on his behalf._"

"_I can meddle all I want, especially if Mikael and Sengoku advise me to. Red died by t__he power of the just and the true. Any Marine would know that. Sengoku even went as far as to praise him for it! And now, I have come for you."_

"_I beg your pardon?" Lucy spluttered out, believing she had heard a falsehood._

"_Well, Sengoku's orders were explicitly clear: Kill any and all who aid in the passage of Rosalie Cass and Portgas D. Ace. And you, my dear old aunt, have done just that!"_

"_So, you come to me, informing me of what is yet to come, and my own demise? How kindhearted a man you are, young Thomas."_

"_My rank will be raised exponentially if I follow my orders from those above me. Now, how would you like to go?"_

"_You give me a choice? How sweet. I'd hate to have a surprise."_

"_Oh, no, that was a joke. I already did ~!"_

"_Do you honestly take me for a fool?"_

_At this comment, Tom evilly grins at Lucy. "Why, no, not you, but your dear Anne? She was fair game. With a few threatening words, and a probe from a weapon, my katana, and the job was done. Poison, my dear, _poison _in that beautiful porcelain cup of yours."_

"_Oh, Anne!" Lucy coughed out before a trail of blood escaped her lips, her nose, and her ears. And soon thereafter, Lucy McCallum fell right clean out of her chair, directly onto the floor._

_"Any last words, my dearest aunt?" Thomas asks, getting a sort of sick pleasure out of the moment._

_"Yes, you foolish boy, I do. Rosalie will get you, and if not Rosalie, I'm sure she can find it in her power to go after Shanks and get something done. They know and clearly understand the truth. Mark my words - you've been warned."_

_And soon thereafter, in only a few short minutes, Lucy had died._

_Another person dead at the hands of the Marines._

_Tom laughed maniacally, clearly enjoying his victory. "Now, Miss Anne, if you would please come over here."_

_Anne slowly approaches the sick creep who murdered her master, feeling purely wretched for being the one to aid in the kill, all because she was forced to. "Y-yes?"_

"_You did well; I know that was as hard and difficult task for you. However, fret not! You'll be joining Lucy."_

_In her state of shock, Tom took advantage of the situation and stabbed her with his katana, directly into her heart. _

_Two birds killed with one stone. _

_The Marines had won another battle, yet again._

* * *

I woke up, breathing heavily.

In my fright, I had actually spooked Ace awake.

"What's wrong, Rosie?" Ace asks me concerned.

All I can think about is the lyrics to "Lithium" by Evanescence.

_I can't hold onto me_

"Lucy, its Lucy. She's dead, Ace."

_Wonder what's wrong with me_

"What happened? She can't be dead. No one was tailing her."

_Don't wanna let it lay me down this time_

"Tom, it was all Tom's doing!" I choke out in anger.

_Drown my will to fly_

Ace hugs me close, and notices the tears that now don my face.

_Here in the darkness I know myself_

How could another one of my close ones die? How could I fail to save someone yet again?

_Can't break free until I let it go, let me go_

I. HATE. THIS. SIGHT. OF. MINE.

"Rosalie, shh, shh. It's okay; it'll be okay," Ace whispers in my ear as he rocks me to and fro to try and suppress my tears of anguish.

_Always find my place among the ashes_

Why? Why would anyone want to find their place among the ashes? My poor, annoying and conceited, yet wise great-aunt just had her life taken away from her heinously. Why did she deserve such a fate?

"Ace . . . Why does this happen again and again?"

He looks pensively into the corner of the room. "I don't know. I truly do not know. What I do know, however, is that your great-aunt loved us. She believed in us. So, together, you and I will carry out her will – the will she designated to the two of us."

"I can't keep doing this . . . this dying. All this death, this hate! This horrible darkness that seems to tail us everywhere we go. I don't deserve you or your company. How can you still sit here and stay close to me knowing my psychotic family follows me? How can you feel safe and take care of me?"

"Because, Rosie, it's quite simple. I love you."

And I just cry, and cry, and cry, a waterfall of tears.

My cracks continue to break. I'm sick of being broken, downtrodden, unhappy, and depressed. And yet, I cannot find a way to climb out from the hole.

* * *

My nightmare brought the two of us through the night, so it was morning when I finally ceased my sorrowful tears.

Shakily, I rose from the bed, out of Ace's arms, and moved towards the bathroom.

"Ace . . . I'm going to take a bath, so if you're wondering where I am . . . That's where."

"Okay, Rosie. I'll be here. Just holler if you need me."

Closing the door behind me, I look into the mirror.

Is it weird that the girl I see in the mirror looks nothing like the girl that left my father and Red only a short while ago? This girl I see . . . She's deathly pale – practically ghostlike – with massive bags under her eyes. She's hollowed out a bit more than usual, with unbelievably prominent cheekbones. Her eyes lack the luster they used to have in them – the adventurousness, the fun. And her hair, her bright, shiny golden hair! It lacks the light it used to give.

This girl . . . she looks washed away by sorrow, by sadness and by grief.

And this girl . . . is me.

"Look at what you got your sorry, pathetic and useless self into, Rosalie. You literally killed everyone without actually even doing anything. You're a wreck - a mistake. What a fucking joke," I quietly speak to the girl in the mirror – myself – and continuously grow more and more angry. So angry, I lash out. I lash out hard enough that my fist not only makes some serious contact with the mirror, it completely obliterates the thing.

With a nice, malignant symphony of destruction, the mirror no longer exists to haunt me. However, it leaves a painful reminder. One of the glass shards cut a large gash on the outside of my right hand from the knuckle of my pinky finger all the way diagonally across the bottom left-side of my wrist.

"Oh, shit!" I quietly exclaim, panicking at the sight of the blood I inevitably spilled in my fit of rage. Blood was pooling around the gash, dripping all the way down my arm, all over the sink and the floor.

The room itself seemed to be filling with my blood, both the blood itself and its metallic scent. It was making me dizzy; sick. I couldn't take it. I fell onto the floor, lying on my back, and slowly, my vision begins to darken. Before I fade out entirely, the last thing I see is a petrified Ace watching me from above.

"Aye, Ace, when'd you become an angel?" I ask him in my dazed state. And then the darkness consumes me.

* * *

Before Ace and I embarked on our journey together, I loved this one song, I think it was Lavender Moon by Haroula Rose.

It was the most amazing thing to write poetry to. Her silky, dreamy and absolutely calming voice really opened my mind, my heart and my soul to my emotions. I was able to pour a lot of how I actually felt about things into words.

_White walls always weep _

I was always reminded of the white walls in which I lived in for a long while whilst waiting to grow out of my suicidal state of mind. Those horrid, sterile things . . . I hated them.

_When I try to fall asleep _

I always remembered the innumerable number of times I attempted to overcome the dreams that seemed to forever desire to plague my unhappy mind.

_In this city by the sea _

The fact that water has always surrounded my home and I, especially now I realized that was a sign from above, an omen of good, if you will: One day the seas would take me away.

_Walk the memories _

I can never not relive my memories; they are so surreal, I feel like I'm a part of them every day, even though they are in the past.

_Just me and the lavender moon _

I always loved reminiscing about things and looking up to the moon. My wolf would always howl up to it.

_She knows _

_My heart belongs to you _

At the time, my childlike heart belonged to Red, and his fatherly love.

_Filled with secrets like these _

All the drama that has seemed to encompass me now.

_Haunted by long gone dreams _

The unfortunate fact that I can see those dying and how they do indeed die.

_She bends down low _

Lucy. Lucy bent down to where I was, metaphorically.

_Walks me home_

She guided me to Ace; she walked me to a home that I could live in forever.

_Just me and the lavender moon _

Ace and I, quite simply under that big, old full moon.

_She knows _

_My heart belongs to you_

And now, my heart belongs to Ace, no matter how broken and tattered I am.

Ironically, it was those lyrics that woke me up, not the voices I heard when I came to.

"She'll be quite all right, Ace. She just took an unfortunately large cut and lost quite a bit of blood. I'm assuming she was angry at something – anything – and lashed out at whatever she could find. The poor girl must have been put through quite the ordeal. I'll leave you be."

Ace came over to my side, and slowly my eyes fluttered open. His usually nice and tan face had paled, stricken with worry.

"Oh, Ace," I croak out.

I start tearing at the eyes again. I'm really becoming an emotional basket-case.

"Rosalie, do you have any idea what you just put me through? I thought you were going to die!" He admonishes me in grief.

"Ace, I'm sorry. I was angry and I . . . I lost it."

"You just . . . lost it? Yeah, that's all good and well, but look at me, Rosalie Catherine Cass, and tell me this: What would have happened if you died, huh? Am I just supposed to just move on with my life, like I hadn't met you, or Lucy? Come on, Rosalie! That was terrifying."

"But you could have moved on! That's the thing, Ace! You're strong and I'm not. You have the will to fight whatever steps into your way. I can't even deal with the death of some crazy old great-aunt who seemed to know way more than any old woman should. I can't handle this anymore! I don't like looking at the girl I see, okay!"

"No, it's not okay. It has never been okay, and it never will be okay. If you don't like the girl you see, then fix it – fix her! I happen to love the girl I see, no matter how much she falls apart. I think you're strong, even when you and everyone else disagree. I love you. Do you even understand what that means?"

His words hurt me, like a slap in the face. I never think before I act. I'm hurting Ace just as much as I'm hurting myself.

And the problem is: I don't understand his love. It's unreal. It's unrequited. It's, quite frankly, stupid.

How can you love me?

"I. Don't. Ace. Okay?! How can you feel that way about a suicidal kid? Why can't you just leave me to die? Can't you see that's what I want? What I need?"

"No, Rosalie. No, you're wrong; it's not. What you need is to reevaluate your life, your goals and your friends. I love you because you're suicidal, because you're crazy, because you sing to yourself and write your entire life story into poetry and randomly sarcastic and vivaciously witty novels. I love you because you're that crazy blonde genius prodigy freak that stood up against all odds and won the battle. Fuck, Rosalie! You want me to leave you to die?! What kind of man do you think I am?"

"I'm the reason we're behind."

"You're being a baby, and you need to stop. If you're the reason we're behind, I'm the reason we're freaking broke, okay? I eat restaurants out of house and home. You don't complain about that, and I don't complain about you. You know why? Because we love each other. So, there. Take it or leave it."

And I have nothing to say. Not only was that the most aggressively said speech of absolute grandeur that I've ever heard, it was also the most lovable and positively romantic thing I've ever been serenaded with. So, I kept my mouth shut, and just nodded my head."

"Good. Now, get up, and get ready. We've got a breakfast to eat and a criminal to kill."

And Ace got up and walked determinedly away.

* * *

"I'm selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best."

Well, Ace certainly puts that quote into fruition. He CAN handle me at my worst, and if that isn't the dreamiest thing in the world, then I don't know what is.

I think he finally struck the right chord today.

I'm going to change, for him, for me, for Lucy and for Red.

We're going to find that prick, Blackbeard.

And we're going to take Mikael and Tom down.

Family or not, the good ones are the ones I love – not those two.

I'm going to make them pay for that. They're going to rue the day they ever messed with Rosalie Catherine Cass.

* * *

A/N: So, I got a life and wrote this chapter. :3 Yay me.

It came out okay, I think. I mean, is it my favorite chapter in the world, no, but is it the worst? Negative.

Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed it. Happy Saturday now that I could finally upload this chapter.

And review! :D

xoxoxo


	26. Above and Below

So, here I am now writing Chapter 25 on Easter Sunday, the happy and yet horribly unfortunate day before I have to go back to school from a blessed one week vacation.

On the plus side, there's only about one and a half months left of school before summer vacation, which might be the only thing getting me through the month of May at this point.

Orchestra and Marching Band start up this week, so I probably will not be able to update either Mondays or Wednesdays. Sorry, guys, it's just the way things have gone.

[This is kind of why I'm writing a chapter tonight, even if it is a holiday. That way we all have something to do.]

So, as a final statement before I get to actually writing this chapter: Happy Easter, guys. Love you lots.

Happy reading, and don't forget to review. [If you'd like me to do anything specifically in my upcoming chapters, do not be afraid to ask me; I'm open.]

All rights to One Piece belong to Eiichiro Oda, whilst Rosalie belongs to me.

* * *

Chapter 25: Above and Below

* * *

"Life is like the river, sometimes it sweeps you gently along and sometimes the rapids come out of nowhere."

Yeah . . . we're really quite aware of this saying, Ace and I.

I mean, really, truly look at us and tell us that you disagree.

The river Ace and I had been thrown into was practically the rapids of a great river right before a waterfall. Then we, having fun, were like the nice, gently sweeping waters of tranquility. And then Lucy's death was literally the waterfall, the water rolling downhill being my despairing emotions – my tears.

And now, here we were, on an island, with whom you ask?

None other than a random milking girl named Moda.

And what does she ask out of us?

Deliver a letter in exchange for some milk. "Free" milk, yes, but seriously some milk.

And what does Ace do?

Accepts the favor without a second thought, like he usually does.

_Sometimes I feel_

_Like I wanna leave this place for good_

Same, my dear one of my many favorite bands, The Bravery, same. Except for the fact that this time, it's worse than ever.

* * *

"Ace, we barely even know that girl."

He just shakes his head. "She was nice to us. Polite, peaceful and accepting. Unlike that other island where they threw us into the river, she's taken us in and given us milk. Moda is a blessing in disguise."

"Psh, you act like she's a wolf in sheep's clothing," I scoff at Ace, unbelieving that he has so much faith in a random milking girl. I mean, she was nice, yeah, yeah, but she's still a stranger asking us to deliver a bloody letter to my nemeses, the Marines. I truly must question whether or not Ace is a sane being in this world at this point?

"And you? You're a sheep in wolves' clothing, Rosalie! For once, just accept things as they are and do this one simple task with me," Ace reproaches with me, and then pleads, hoping for a pleasing response.

However, he's definitely not going to get one. "You are absolutely, positively joking with me, aren't you? 'Simple,' you say? Simple implies no effort, smooth sailing, pun intended, and an easy ride. Going to a Marine base to deliver a letter? So, so, _so_ not easy, Ace! We're stepping right into the fire!"

"Well, that's rather easy for me to do," Ace boasts rather arrogantly. "I mean, look at whom you're speaking with. They don't call me 'Fire-Fist' Ace for nothing. We can easily make it through the fire, Rosie. Trust me! This. Will. Be. An. Easy. Task."

Already knowing I had lost this battle with Ace and his unfortunate gain of wisdom at this moment, I accept his logic and just nod my head in understanding.

And so, to the G-2 Marine Base we go.

All the while to deliver a bloody letter.

That shouldn't bother me as much as it does, but damn, it really does. It's just a measly bit of paper.

My fucking God.

* * *

"In all things, the heart must take precedence. The heart rules over all things, and all things come from the heart."

Moda really must have loved writing to whomever she actually had written to because not even I would have tried as hard as she has to send a letter to someone, unless it was Red. Red just sort of, kind of, rests higher above most people in my mind, well, besides Ace, naturally.

I guess that deep down in my heart I realized that Moda's heart must really be straining to have this letter be sent. And deep down in my heart, I must strain to get it to the recipient.

Going to where my enemies are, however, is a concept I have the utmost trouble accepting.

Am I being stubborn?

Yes.

Do I care?

Not really.

Does Ace care?

Unfortunately, yes.

What does that mean?

Ace cares that Moda cares, so in essence, Rosalie must care (care-ception right here).

I quit.

I absolute hate having to do the right things through the wrong means.

Going to the Marines equates to . . . going to Hell in my mind.

I hope Ace notices that I really am not going to be the happiest person when we get there.

* * *

"So, I've devised a plan, in my mind a simple one, in which the two of us will find two unsuspecting Marine soldiers, and inevitably attack them, take their clothes and impersonate two Marines until we find the proper recipient of the letter," Ace informs me, clearly proud of his tactical strategy.

"Seems a little . . . like we're basing our fate on complete and utter coincidence versus actual factual information," I remark, a bit skeptical of us just "finding" two Marine soldiers, knocking the two men out and stealing their clothes. Maybe it's just me, but I really don't think the two of us have _that_ much luck on our sides.

"Yeah, we are. That's so totally okay though, because I'm the Second Division Commander. This entire act will be easy pickings for the two of us," Ace, once again, boasts rather arrogantly to me.

"I sure hope so, Ace. I really, truly hope and believe you're right."

Planning strategies isn't fun when one has to plan a strategy completely based on luck and luck alone.

I'm nervous, yet again.

I'm really reconsidering my life status.

I so totally need a new one.

* * *

Ace and I took about three days (universal amount of time to travel to each island in this world, I know) to reach the G-2 Marine Base.

It wasn't anything special, really. Actually, it was rather bleak, dark and depressing – stereotypical of any Marine base.

And in all actuality, it had the most random diagonal design I've ever had to lay my poor eyes on. The majority of the . . . about five levels, seemed to have the same design. It looked like a ridiculously large jaguar print, save for the fact that the spots that speckled the surface were thinner, longer and less round than the actual spots on a jaguar.

Either way, I was grossed out.

Now, why would my father or my uncle or my entire family, for that matter, truly desire to have me join the Marines so that I could live in a place like this? This hideously eccentric base furthers my absolute disgust for the Marines – not a shock, really.

Even the wretched birds flying above the base looked downcast. Their wings angled a bit funny whilst flying, their eyes were depressed and saddened and their feathers were not nearly as vibrant a white as they were on other islands.

If even the birds have changed their appearance, clearly the Marines are not happy people.

You couldn't bribe me with enough music, money or even if I were to stoop so low, alcohol in the world – the universe – to get me to go join such a horrid party like the Marines.

And this mentality will never leave me. Ever.

Stubbornness is my way of life, as it would appear.

* * *

"You ready for this?" Ace asks me as we both sit, unfortunately watching the dreadfully gaudy place.

"As ready as I think I will ever be, which in truth, is not a lot," I tell him truthfully.

He snorts. "You haven't been ready for this entire thing since I asked you to come with me three days ago."

"Yeah, yeah," I say, annoyed. "Can we just go? The faster we do this thing for Moda, the faster we can get the hell out of here."

"Rosie, can I tell you something?"

"Naturally, I'm not just going to ignore you. I've got nothing better to do."

"You're in such a pissy mood lately, Rosie. As I was saying, 'The best time to frame an answer to the letters of a friend, is the moment you receive them. Then the warmth of friendship, and the intelligence received, most forcibly cooperate.' Know you what this means?"

"Letters are an important way to keep answering a friend far away? I think?" I shrug my shoulders. The only said time I'd ever written a letter was when Ace and I went to Lucy's and I wrote that letter to Red write before his execution. Otherwise, there's been no reason. Having no friends out of the town I lived in really meant no letters of transacting emotions and feelings.

"'To send a letter is a good way to go somewhere without moving anything but your heart.' Wise words, Rosie; you should learn them. They'll teach you a lot about how people feel in the world, especially through words on a piece of parchment. The ink you write with? That's what you see, hear, feel and accept, except for the fact that at this point, they're no longer in your head, but in the world. You can't pull heartstrings if you don't write them down first."

Everyone really feels the need, the insatiable desire, to call me out for being a grouch, don't they? Having Ace, him being someone who can be quite the immature child at times, call me out – that really, truly hit home.

"Okay, okay, I get it. I'll stop now. Let's go find some unsuspecting Marines and steal some clothes."

"Good, glad to have you back on board."

* * *

Ace and I snuck around the base, hiding amongst the foliage placed around the base, we come across two Marines, one male and one female (how après peau!) and our hunt begins. Looking upon the two as unsuspecting prey, us being the predators, we start off on a nice slow jog that eventually becomes a sprint and knock the two out. Ace kicks the male in the head, whilst I hit one of her pressure points, immediately knocking her unconscious.

Ace and I look at each other, and fist bump. Laughing, the two of us drag them away to the foliage, stripping them of their Marine garments, and then donning them upon ourselves.

"Well, how do I look?" Ace asks me, spinning around in a slow circle so that I can get every angle of his new look.

"You look just like one of those pricks. Way to fit in with the crowd, Ace," I laugh. "You do look nice though, I have to admit. And me?"

"You look lovely as usual, Rosalie. Or should I say, Commander Rosalie?"

"Ah, yes, do address me with the utmost authority, Commander Ace!"

We both giggle.

"This is ridiculous. How is your plan actually working out so well so far?" I ask Ace, awed that his act of luck has been successful so far.

"I literally have no clue, but I like this. I like it a lot," he smirks, clearly proud of his accomplishments.

"Well, then, shall we?"

And together, the two of us link arms and enter through the front doors of the G-2 Marine Base.

* * *

Ace and I walked around in circles for quite a while. Neither of us really knew where on Earth we should go. Every single one of those hallways looked exactly the same: bleak, dark, rather dingy and boring. There weren't even any sort of pictures or trophies on the wall. How do they live like that?

And then I realized this entire situation was ironic. The outside is eccentric as all hell and yet the inside is quite possibly the drabbest thing I've seen. Marine Logic 101, my friends, Marine Logic.

What does that mean?

No logic.

No logic whatsoever.

* * *

"There's the dining hall!" Ace points out. "Let's eat now! I'm hungry enough as is."

"I really, really do not think we should eat with the Marines. What if we get caught?"

"We're not going to get caught, I promise you. Cross my heart."

If only I didn't believe him to be telling the truth this time.

* * *

The Marines had a more or less buffet style set-up for meal times. You got a tray, a plate and whatever type of utensil one desired to use, as well as a napkin. Afterwards, the food was fair game. And for Ace, that meant everything and anything on the menu.

Pirates, man. They're crazy kids.

For me? That meant . . . a measly sized, well-rationed portion that barely covered half of the plate.

We sat down, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.

"Aye, what are your ranks? I haven't seen you two around before," a random, odd Marine asks us, clearly of lower standings in the Marines.

"We're both commanders," Ace takes over for me. "We're actually from a different base, but we came over for business reasons. And you?"

"Just a normal, typical Marine soldier. The name's Louis."

Ace looks pointedly at me, clearly probing me to take over. "Uh, um, I'm Marisse and my partner is Jeffrey."

Ace looks at me, giving me a look that says, "What in the freaking world is actually wrong with you?"

I kick him in the shin.

That gets him to look away, trust me.

"Ah, well, it's been nice to meet the two of you, Commanders," he tells us respectively.

"Thank you," Ace replies. "I have a question; however, do you happen to know a man by the name of: Comil?"

"Oh, yeah, of course! He's the Vice Admiral. Shouldn't you two know who Vice Admiral Comil is as well?"

"Haha! We were just testing you. A Marine should always be on their toes, shouldn't they?" I ask him, covering up our moment of "stupidity". Naturally the guy would be a Vice Admiral, now wouldn't he?

"Oh, I see. You guys are pretty good, keeping me on my toes and all." He replies, impressed by our "skills".

Louis eventually got up and left us alone, telling us that he had to go and do something with his men, or whatever. I got bored of his small-talk after a long while of hearing him blab.

Unfortunately, Ace and I heard another form of small-talk, this time talk that was not so very pleasing to Ace's ears.

"The Whitebeard Pirates are literally such a joke! I mean, Whitebeard himself, the bloody fool, is old, weary and rather pathetic. A man like him would be easily taken down by the Marines!" One of the soldiers began, ranting all about the Whitebeard Pirates.

"Seriously, man," another chimes in, agreeing with the first Marine. "Even their First and Second in Command are such pathetic commanders. What's his name? Marco? He always has to defend the old codger left and right. And Ace? That hot head isn't even around, or so I've heard. The guy has gone bonkers, traveling with some pretty lass. They're a mess."

So not the guy you want to have overhearing your pitiful rant about one of the strongest pirate crews to ever sail the seven seas. Why, oh why did they have to talk about Ace and his crew? Son of a bitch.

Ace stood up.

"No, Ace, no. Ignore them, please. They're just being annoying. They don't know," I plead with Ace, trying with all my might to end his anger, or at least subdue it partially.

"No, you were right, Rosalie. The Marines are fools. So, I'm going to treat them like fools. They cannot talk about Pops or Marco like that, or even me and you, and get away with it."

And in his determined, and heavily pissed off state, Ace punched the guy square in the face.

He punched him so hard, he was knocked out. Knocked out cold.

In shock, the other Marine looks up and recognizes Ace. "It's the Fire-Fist! And Rosalie!"

At the same time, Ace and I look at each other and say two words.

"Oh shit!"

* * *

Ace and I ran for what seemed like ever in any attempt to shake off those darn Marines.

In a last spurt of effort, Ace sets a Marine Scout ship on fire, leading the whole lot of them to grow distracted by that tragic turn of events. "Ace! You just set a ship on fire!"

"Yeah . . . I know. It was so worth it, though. You've got to admit!"

I just shake my head.

As it would be, the Marines were extremely worried because top-secret documents were on the said scout ship. Of course.

In a rescue attempt, one of the Marines (Ace) jumps into the bloody conflagration. Why? Lord only knows. I sure as hell didn't tell him to do that. I guess his conscience started to kick him in the butt again. I know mine was . . . mildly, even though I hated the Marines.

Ace comes back carrying a Marine and some documents out of the destruction whilst still on fire. However, this leads to the Marines unfortunately quickly deducing Ace's identity and chase the two is again. Oh Joy.

Whilst running, Ace and I pass by the Vice Admiral Comil. How coincidental! Ace hands the letter to Comil, the intended recipient and away we sprint, leaving the poor guy to look at our backs in awe and confusion versus the anticipated anger.

* * *

"Ace, we are so not ever doing this again, you hear me?" I admonish him for his reckless actions.

"That was so much fun, Rosie. So. Much. Fun."

"Sure, sure. Now can we make the three-day long trip _back _to Moda and tell her the good news so that we can go on our merry way? Thanks," I remark sarcastically.

"Okay, okay. I got it. Let's go as fast as we can. Thanks for being a good sport, Rosie. I owe you!"

And in his praise, Ace kisses me passionately on the lips, clearly showing his gratitude.

Sometimes, I swear, this kid is positively crazy.

And for some reason, I find it endearing and attractive as fuck.

* * *

_I must believe_

_There's more above us and below_

_I must believe_

* * *

A/N: I don't particularly like this chapter per se. I could have done it much better, but I was sort of rushing to get it out.

Sorry if it's not the best thing I've done in a while. I just really wanted to emphasize Ace's insanity. :]

Love you guys! Happy Easter!

xoxoxo


	27. You Make Me Happy

So, I was sitting peacefully at home, staring blissfully into space and just daydreaming off and on about literally anything. However, that was boring, so I began my typical Tumblr adventures and stumbled across the extended version of the _Fault in Our Stars_ trailer and, in all actuality, died for ten minutes.

May my soul rest in peace.

Anyways, whilst sitting in remorse about how amazing that book and hopefully the movie will be, I realized I had a story of my own I should have been writing. Go me.

I'm surprised you guys didn't riot and flip on me. Good for you guys.

So, here I am with one of the most pathetic apologies ever: I'm terribly sorry. School, field trips, marching band and an Algebra II grade far below what it should be set my plans of action back for an entire week. I kid you not. It has taken me a week. I hate myself for it, I'm sorry.

However, today alone, I reached the 5,151 marker number of views on _Finding Me._ –Cries and claps in happiness and glee – You guys are literally the most amazing things in the entire universe. You guys make me less depressed, honest to goodness. So, thank you.

Being the happy person I am (and thankful one) I'm going to just give a wonderful shout-out to all of my favoriters and followers because . . . Well, because I can.

So, here goes:

Favoriters: (You guys are amazing, okay?) Hamster1st, KagomeUchiha101, Lunacii, NamikazeMia, Outcast001, SaiKaiya01, SecretlyADayDreamer, Skooter918, SleepAroundTheClock, TheHeartsPath, TheRealEvanSG, WaddlingLemon, casie200, kitsunlover, missNOBODYa. , mittensx7768, pinkus-pyon, squirpsdolphin, vampirediarieslover123, and yakikikusoso.

Followers: [Just as amazing as those above (^)] Ariwynthas, CallmeEevee, FerriDeel, Hamster1st, HoneyGrl, J13K6N99, KagomeUchiha101, Mugiwara Luffia, NamikazeMia, Outcast001, Pesephone-De-Nae, ReMiNiScEnTDrEaMs, Redery, Skooter918, SleepAroundTheClock, TheRealEvanSG, Traffy, WaddlingLemon, gOthiCkUrOcHo69, leroalice, missNOBODYa. , mittensx7768, natii4u, scipio96, squirpsdolphin, vampirediarieslover123, and yakikikusoso.

[That took a while. Okay, gratitude over with, let's move on.]

Um, why haven't I updated besides school? The reason is very, very simple: I don't know how to cope with the whole "Blackbeard captures Ace" thing. I mean, I'm so, so, so, _so,_ nervous to even fathom writing THAT chapter; so honestly, I'm not going to for a little while. I mean, it's a high climatic point, so it deserves both a really long chapter, and a lot of thought – both of which are a little lacking in my point of view at the moment. So, the next couple of chapters are pretty pointless romantic fluff that will ease your minds that, no, I'm not dead, and yes, Ace and Rosalie are still happy at the moment. However, when that bomb drops, and yes, it will drop, I don't think any of us are going to be ready. So . . . I'll keep all of you posted so that when that time comes, we're all kind of prepared.

God. Longest Author's Note ever.

Anyways, review, PM me, whatever. I practically live off of Fanfiction and Tumblr, so . . . I'll be here. Maybe you guys can just tell me what you want to see in these upcoming chapters. That'd be dope actually. Yeah, please do that.

All right, I'll stop now. [Shut up stupid rambling brain.]

Happy reading!

{As usual, One Piece belongs to Oda whilst Rosalie and parts of the plot belong to me.}

* * *

Chapter 26: You Make Me Happy

* * *

"You can't force love, I realized. It's there or it isn't. If it's not there, you've got to be able to admit it. If it is there, you've got to do whatever it takes to protect the ones you love."

Love is weird; it's fluffy; it's happy; it's unreal; it's annoying; it's Ace and I.

Even though the entirety of this journey has been about finding people in the literal and metaphorical sense, (Me, Blackbeard, Luffy, et cetera) it seems that this journey also took a different approach. It led me to a new road, a new way to see the world. It led me to love.

Now, loving an undeniable prick like me with a messed up heart and twisted emotions takes some serious skill. You have got to admit, someone like me should probably never be approached at close distances because . . . well, I look like I might actually bite you. I think it's just the intensity of my stare, or perhaps the seriousness of my face which tends to enjoy not smiling more than . . . smiling. However, Ace came into that safe-haven, that polite, reclusive shell I created for myself from the disasters, the horrendous events, and the traumatic times I've had under my belts after all these years, and pulled me out, slowly, but swiftly.

How?

How could anyone be attracted to me? I really cannot even begin to fathom such a preposterous notion, and yet, here it is staring me dead in the eye.

I fell for _him_.

Ace.

That guy, you know, the one who falls asleep mid-conversation. That guy that can eat an entire restaurant's menu and, I swear on my life, not even gain a bloody pound all the while. (So not fair to every woman to ever walk on the planet. God, men can do no wrong.) That guy with the insanely-amazing pirate king of a father with an immature younger brother (my age, can you believe it?). That guy with the most peaceful and smiley-smile I've ever seen.

It almost makes one wonder what's wrong with either of us for being horribly attracted to the other.

And honestly, I can't even help it. I just _am._ He's silly, weird, mildly cuckoo and wickedly powerful. He's a hero-type of protagonist every man should want and totally try to be, and the knight every girl wants to have come save them.

I have completely and utterly taken Ace for granted. His antics may annoy me, but he's the most valuable thing that I've ever acquired ever. I could never let him go.

I should write his story, you know? Like his biography and publish it.

Yeah . . . _The Story of Portgas D. Ace: Pirate-Extraordinaire. _I like it. And then I can add my pizzazz wherever it may need to be, though I will admit, Ace has enough pizzazz to go around the planet three-fold.

God, I love him enough to write a damn book about him? Where does this emotion even come from?

* * *

Sighing contentedly, I look over at Ace's sleeping face.

We were actually at Moda's residence, staying over for the night. Ace really didn't want to trouble us by immediately traversing the sea after only saying the good news of Moda's letter.

She was ecstatic, though. I must say, I've never seen anyone look that happy before. Well, more towards Ace. You'll see.

* * *

_Flashback:_

* * *

_Ace and I perused across the beach, hurrying to tell Moda that the letter was delivered. The letter was obtained safely; the Marine base was left in shambles. Oops. I think we need to leave that part out._

"_Think she'll be happy?" I inquire._

"_Hell yes! Of course she'll be. I mean, we went through so much to get this letter back to her. How could she not be?" Ace looked at me like I was crazy for even asking that question._

"_You set a boat on fire."_

"_I know. I really am amazing, aren't I?"_

"_That wasn't even what I was hinting at."_

"_Oh stop, Rosie. The girl's letter was delivered, the mission a success. Now we can get her milk and move on to the next phase of our adventure," Ace nods his head dreamily. It's just milk. I have no idea why he feels that it's _so_ good. _

"_You punched a Marine."_

"_He had it coming," Ace fired back. Damn, he's prepared today._

"_We stole two Marines' clothing, which we're actually still wearing," I look down, realizing neither of us decided to change after running, or more like sprinting like the fires of Hell were upon us, away from the base and sailing vehemently away. "We did some serious damage."_

"_All for the good of the people. It was totally a just cause." Ace justifies his reasoning._

"_. . . 'People,' Ace? It was one person. ONE. We slammed a Marine base over one person."_

"_Yeah, yeah, we don't like Marines, Rosie. Actually, you abhor them, so . . . you're point?"_

"_Well, that's sort of terrifying, especially for a young girl like that," I tell him pointedly. Of course there's a point. Otherwise, I wouldn't have even decided to bring it up._

"_She's your age, I think. Maybe sixteen, or so. Big deal," Ace pauses to shake his head. "Oi, remember the days when I practically had to pull your teeth to get you to talk?"_

_I nod._

"_Yeah, I miss those days. Now, I just can't seem to get you to shut up!" And Ace begins running._

_And boy, did I fly after that kid. He just officially made my list._

* * *

_Ace and I ran all the way to Moda's house, just as the sun hit the horizon line._

"_I hate you."_

"_You love me, you know it," Ace grins arrogantly. "I'm going to go knock."_

_Ace approached Moda's door and knocked rather aggressively for the hour. I'm pretty sure she could hear us outside. Knocking just accentuated our presences further._

_Slowly, an eye peers through her little eye-hole in the door. It was rather creepy just seeing a hazel-brown eye peek at us. And yet, I couldn't stop staring as though it were a challenge or something. _

_Finally, she opens the door, real gradual-like, as though we have all day or something. _

"_Did you deliver my letter?" She asks, blatantly. _

_The entire thing is just creepy. Freaky weird girls my age or so. They're terrifying, straight up. I'm afraid. _

"'_Course we did! Rosie and I promised we would!" Ace grins proudly. "I never go back on a promise, right, Rosie?" Ace nonchalantly elbows me in the gut._

_Spluttering, I let out a weak, "Yeah, yeah," and hold my right side in pain. _

_Of all things, Ace would go after my stomach._

"_Oh, goodie! Thank you so, _so, SO_ much, Ace! You are amazing! I love you!" And Moda just grabs on to Ace, seemingly unaware of my presence. Annoyed, I let myself into the house._

_I mean, what was I supposed to do? Sit there, or more like stand there, like an awkward third-wheel? Hell no._

_I approached her dainty little couch and sat down, finally able to alleviate the growing pain in my now-tired legs._

_I waited a full two minutes before Ace finally strolled in and sat next to me. _

"_Have fun, did you?"_

"_She . . . can really hug . . . She's nothing like you. I can barely tell you're in my arms whilst with her? It's a freakin' bear hug. Sheesh, I think she blocked off circulation in my arms!" Ace exclaims._

"_Uh huh. I want tea, Moda," I tell her expectedly._

_Moda walks in. "I only have my milk. Ace would you like milk?"_

"_Most definitely!" Ace replies. Not the fucking milk again._

_What is the milk obsession? I mean, I love my share of milk, but this is getting ridiculous._

"_Who doesn't have tea?" I whisper-ask to Ace._

"_I don't know," Ace whispers back. "Milk is good. Just drink it."_

"_Blah, blah, blah. It better be good."_

"_Oh, it is."_

_Waiting politely, Moda returns with . . . two glasses of milk. One for Ace and . . . one for Moda._

_Naturally._

"_Is it good, Ace?" She asks excitedly._

"_Yeah, it's really good. Rosie, want to try?" He asks, oblivious as usual. Like, hello? She just totally and purposely ignored my presence yet again._

"_Nah, I'm good. I'm sure you'll want all of it," I shrug off his offer. Moda was giving me the evil-eye. I really don't want to have _that_ looking at me. _

"_No, seriously, here," Ace holds his glass in front of my face. He slowly, and adeptly, lifts my pointed chin to a more comfortable drinking position, and holding my face steadily, places the cup at my lips and allows me to drink some of Moda's Amazing Milk._

_And unfortunately . . . that milk was good. Like, really good. Really, solidly good. I have no idea why it was that good, be it the cream or what not, but I really liked that milk. [Milk appreciation all said and done, Moda officially wants to rip my eyeballs out now.]_

_Ace slowly takes the cup away, and pats my head, inevitably lowering my face again. "See, it's amazing. I can tell you like it!"_

"_Yeah, haha," I shrug off our randomly romantic moment. "You should drink the rest."_

_And in one solid gulp, he does. Of course he does. He's ACE._

"_Say, Moda? Can Rosie and I stay the night? We have nowhere else to go at the moment, and we're sort of broke," Ace asks politely. Me, on the other hand? I want to die. She's going to castrate my body whilst I sleep. I refuse to accept these sleeping arrangements. I'd rather sleep in a bush of Poison Ivy!_

"_Ace," I mumble. "We can sleep under the stars, you know? Outside." And I point to the pretty midnight blue sky._

"_Nah, Rosie, Moda has a really nice house," at that point, Ace enunciates his appreciation for her home. "We totally need to stay here for the night."_

"_Well, of course you can, Ace!" Moda looks happily at him. "And why thank you! I'm so glad you like it. I love cozy, warm things."_

_Someone get me out of here. Preferably through murder._

* * *

_Flashback End_

* * *

And so, here we are, sleeping in a spare guest room with Moda glaring through the freaking wall. Yeah, sure, I might sound paranoid, but I am not making this up. I can_ feel_ her damn eyes watching me. I am officially petrified. Thus why I'm writing at God knows when in the dark.

I'm trying to cope, and Ace's sweet sleeping face is the only thing barely getting me through. How can he be so oblivious, though? I mean, her eyes are daggers pointed straight for my beating heart. I'm being honest. This isn't hyperbole, this is life.

Naturally, Ace would be able to fall asleep in the psycho-milk girl's house. Why would I even think otherwise? She doesn't randomly hate his existence; she just abhors the hell out of mine. Forever a target in this world, I've gathered.

Staring at the ceiling, horribly wide awake, I just decide to write a poem.

* * *

_Hello_

_By: Rosalie Cass_

_The words, a long, no longer lingering, forgotten tale by which we used to speak_

_These lines, waves of inference into the depths of the soul_

_These tears, the cascading emotions that seem to forever etch my face_

_These clouds, the darkness that plagues my soul_

_This is my hello._

_However, your words are bright, and ever present, vivacious even_

_Your lines are never gone, permanent_

_Your tears are never there, for you are strong_

_And those clouds, they know not who you are_

_For they do not plague your soul_

_You are the world's beautiful hello._

_You shine a light through every dark tunnel I create_

_You hold my hand with a simple, sweet, warm embrace_

_You catch my tears before they fall_

_For you do not want to miss a drop_

_And you hold my heart_

_For you dare not let it stop._

_For every goodbye the world may bring_

_You alone let the world sing_

_Hello, hello, hello._

_You, you are the world's bright, foretold hello._

* * *

Tucking my poem into Ace's open palm, I try to quell whatever restlessness I have left and snuggle into his outstretched arms.

He's so warm. Sometimes, I have to wonder how he can deal with the heat. No one, out of their own volition, would ever dare to stand at a temperature so hot. And yet, here he is, sleeping blissfully in his own heat.

Just how special can he actually very well be? Can I get some of that?

* * *

I guess my inquiries led me to fall into a dreamless sleep. No Moda haunting me, no horribly scenes of death, no hideous flashbacks of my parents or even family member murders. Just a happy, simple sleep.

Thank God. Thank goodness. For once in my entire life, Fate favored me. Smart choice, Fate, I think this is a new beginning for us.

Turning over, I reach for Ace. However, his side of the bed is empty, and cold.

In shock, I open my eyes and look around for even the slightest bit of Ace I can find.

He's not in the room. I'm alone in Moda's house, in her guest room . . . alone.

This is officially suicide. Bloody hell.

Fate, I lied. We definitely don't have a new beginning. That was a fifty second joke. However, the joke is on me, ain't it?

I rush over and pull on a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt. Throwing on my boots, I rush out of the room in the hopes that I shall somehow stumble upon Ace. I mean, he took my poem with him. I wanted to know if he liked it, my gosh. If it's awful, I'd at least like some feedback.

Better question: Where the hell is Moda? I swear, if I turn around and that psycho is behind me with a dagger, so help me God, that girl is getting it in the face. I don't care if her death brings the Apocalypse of Milk upon the world, or what, but I'm doing it.

Slowly, I turn around . . . And she isn't there. Few, Fate just saved every said cow on the planet. Looking back at the direction I was heading towards, I shriek because someone was there!

And then, in my embarrassment, I discovered, somewhat to my utter disappointment as well, that it was just Ace.

[OF COURSE IT WAS.]

"Rosie!" Ace exclaims. "What are you doing?"

I scratch the back of my head. "Uh, plotting . . . Moda's demise? And milk's demise as well?"

"Rosie, sometimes I swear, I don't know what to do with you," he simply shakes his head. "Did you write this?"

I open my mouth to respond, but then Ace cuts me off. "Wait that was a dumb question, your name's on it. Duh! Anyways . . . well," Ace leaves the sentence hanging.

"Well . . . what?" I inquire, really nervous about it.

"Well, stupid, I loved it. It was amazing. You might not like to convey your feelings out loud, but what you put into words . . . Pure poetry. I love you, Rosie."

Ace pulls me into a simple hug, slowly lifting my chin and placing a small, simple kiss upon my pink lips. "You make me really happy, kid. I hope you know that. Moda made us breakfast. You coming?"

And in my dazed, affectionate state, I just nod. Sometimes, words really aren't needed.

'_I make him happy.'_

* * *

A/N: Does that sort of, kind of make up for my absence? Yes? No?

I hope so. They're so cute, I mean come on.

Haha, anyways, review, please, or PM me. I like to write what you guys want me to write. It makes me feel more connected with my readers, so, please do.

Happy Monday, if that's even a thing.

xoxoxo


	28. Fate

So, look who decided to write another chapter after a pathetic exactly two month wait? I mean, is it uncanny or what that the time I decided to actually write this chapter was two months after the last one? I'm just sorry it took so long.

Forgive me.

I mean, you can piece together that school, finals and everything in between and around those things took place and kind of occupied my free time, but hey! I am on vacation now. Praise be.

Rather than blab, I'd like to give a couple "Thank Yous" and shout outs.

Thanks go to: Cocoa Liddell, IsraAl'Attia-Theron, Tenshi Amaya, ZabuzasGirl, and mishatot for favoriting _Finding Me._

Thanks also go out to: Cocoa Liddell, TsukiBop, mishatot, and rose46652 for following my story, _Finding Me._

Next, a shout out is in order for: The Amazing TheRealEvanSG who I haven't PM-d in a while, for your review. Moda is so jealous. I needed something funny before a serious chapter.

And a shout out for my latest reviewer who actually got me inspired to write again: Miss WaddlingLemon. It's okay. I'm horrid at reviewing too. And I hope this chapter kind of works. Fingers crossed. And thank you. I'm glad you like the two together. Your good luck made me want to write again.

{Anywho, my disclaimer is as follows: One Piece, meaning all of the lines, writing and characters, i.e. Ace, belong to the fantastic wizard of a person we call Oda}

* * *

Chapter 28: Fate

* * *

No poems, no laughs, no smiles and no Ace – that's all I had the pleasure of seeing.

That was Fate, and it had a message for me.

One word: Death.

* * *

Moda left me scratching the back of my head out of confusion for the longest time. Quite the silly thing, jealousy, and yet, it leaves people the world over dazed, confused and unbelievably jaded. And unfortunately, you can add two more individuals to that list: Rosie and Moda.

I'd love to say that I held my tongue and refrained from lashing out at that . . . girl. However, that would mean I lied.

Sure, she didn't kill me, and she sure as heck didn't win Mister Ace over, but she was just there. Always watching and listening and . . . My God! It was terrifying.

It was nice to leave her. Wait, scratch that, that sounds awful.

At least she was happy when we left her.

* * *

Our leaving of Moda and her stupid milk meant that we were, once again, traveling. However, this time, our travels were different. Because this time, we knew where to go.

We now know the location of Marshall D. Teach, world-renowned as Blackbeard, and one hell of a scary man. I'm shaking writing about him even now. And yet Ace has so much determination to take him down. I wish he'd share.

You can tell he's tired if you look close enough. He doesn't convey a lot about his inner emotions, but he definitely has some deeper feelings on the matter. His smiles have slowly gotten less jovial looking, and they no longer reach his eyes. His eyes shine with a stranger kind of sparkle – an angry and ferocious one. He's tense, so tense, like at any moment, Blackbeard is going to pounce.

And all the while, Ace hasn't even shed the slightest bit of light on Blackbeard – his powers, who he travels with and the like. In fact, besides noting where Blackbeard is located, Ace has not spoken about him.

It's scaring me. That may sound childish, I've gathered, but I'm really nervous. I've never gone after someone like this before, and it shows. It shows in my demeanor, my gait and even in my face.

I'm _only_ seventeen.

And that puts me at a serious disadvantage. Wisdom, strength, tricks of the trade – all are lost on me because I have yet to live them and to learn them.

Ace is only a couple of years older.

Is he ready?

I really hope the answer is yes.

* * *

"Where are we going, Ace?'

That's all it took to see him tense up. To see him freeze and turn his gaze into a hardened one – a cold one.

In a scratchy voice, he replied, "Banaro Island."

"And are we sure he's going to be there?"

"Positive. He's probably raided it, or is in the process of raiding it. He's that kind of guy."

Pausing, I finally ask a question that's been bothering me, "Are you ready?"

Ace looks over at my slightly shaking form, taking in the nerves and the ironic fear that usually never reveals itself.

He shakes his head, which seems to remove the hard look that adopted his face. Ace then smiles, and hugs me. "'Course I am! I'm the only one perfect for this job."

He laughs, but it sounds funny. Not nearly as hearty and warm as it usually is.

"Ace, what should I do . . . before we get there? What do I need to do?" I ask him.

He looks away. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing."

'_What? I need to at least mentally prepare myself!'_

"Ace, I'm being serious. This – Blackbeard – it's serious!" I yell at him, fully annoyed with his behavior.

"Rosie, you're not going. The Dynamic Duo we had is now the Dynamic Uno."

"w-wh-what?" I splutter out. How could he even say that?! We've been together for a long while now, in more ways than one. How could you just drop a person?

Ace turns around completely and looks at me. "I'm not doing this because I don't love you. Actually, it's because I love you too much. I don't want to see you hurt. So, we're going to take a break. I'm going to leave you at the island closest to Banaro, and I'll see you off. I can't have Blackbeard see you, even get his hands on you. You're too important to me."

"No . . . No! You're being ridiculous, Ace! You've done a lot of stupid things in the time I've known you, but this!? This has got to be the dumbest one of them all. I'm not leaving you. You cannot make me!" I scream at him.

The danger he's prepared to take on . . . That ignoramus! He's not going to be okay. We're a team! A TEAM. Does that word mean nothing?!

If he goes off alone and gets himself killed, I'm the one to blame! Sure, Blackbeard did it, and Ace allowed himself to go off alone, but at the end of the day, it's my fault!

"Rosie, you need to breathe. Yelling until you're blue in the face is not going to get me to listen. I've made up my mind. And it's for the best that you follow my orders. I'm not watching another person I love die. First Thatch, now you! I can't deal with that pressure on me – on my conscience. You _must _at least understand that, don't you, Rosie?"

At this point, Ace has the most pleading look in his eyes.

I start to cry. Defeated and useless, that's all I've become.

A useless, defective nuisance.

* * *

When we got to the next island, Ace walked me around. He helped point out restaurants, inns and the like.

But my head just wasn't in the game. And it won't be. Not until Ace comes back.

"You're going to be fine, Rosie. I'm going to be fine. And Blackbeard is going to be dead. Trust me. And if I don't come back, I'm sure you can send word to Whitebeard and the gang. Or even meet up with Luffy. You're resourceful. Brilliantly resourceful and a genius. We're going to make it out of this entire thing quite all right. Believe me. As long as you're safe, I'm happy."

Ace holds my head in his hands and kisses me. It was sweet and quick. A simplistic goodbye with a polite speech attached.

And I didn't like one bit of it.

Wiping away my tears, Ace walked away. Farther and farther still, until he was lost in my line of sight, a silhouette long-forgotten by my eyes.

It took only a moment's breath for me to realize what I was dreading most:

I was alone.

* * *

I was sitting on a bench, which resulted in my crying for half-an-hour, until I realized what an ignorant child I am.

Instead of following Ace's orders, I thought. And I planned.

I ran to the nearest library, saw that they were still open and dashed inside. Scores of books could be seen in each book case, and every book was a different size, shape and width. It was breathtaking, especially to a typical book-carnivore like myself. However, the clock was ticking and time was a-wasting.

Scanning every nook and cranny of the monstrously-sized library, my eyes finally befell the one thing I was searching for – the librarian.

I walked rather hurriedly to where he stood and waited for him to notice me. With his beady black eyes, which appeared to be rather small in proportion to his large, round and balded-head, and his well-crafted square-shaped glasses, one could only assume that he would notice any sort of noise and movement in such a quiet and seemingly deserted place.

However, the damn bloke was completely oblivious to my existence. I haven't the time for this, and he's deliciously wrapped up in a novel I could care less about at the moment.

So, I knocked, rather loudly on the table, hoping to get his attention. He flinched, causing a small worth of trouble to ensue. His flinching led to the book dropping, and unsuccessfully, missing the page he was on. His glasses flew right quick off of his face and he himself fell right from his chair. Simultaneously, might I add.

After finding his spectacles and re-establishing some sense of order in his small section of the library, he finally took in my appearance and scrutinized everything he could about me. It was rather creepy, seeing as I had come for information and not a scrying.

"Well, what do you want?" He asked me, probably perturbed seeing as I had disturbed the peace. That seems to be all I'm good for lately.

"I need information. I need to know how far away Banaro Island is from this island as well as how I can get there. Immediately, sir, because time is of the essence at the moment!" I quickly spurt out what I can in hopes that the urgency of my tone should alert some sense of emergency and speed in the man.

However, the librarian lethargically moves in his seat, still watching my every move. "It's only a good half an hour from here. And by a boat, you ninny!"

"I don't have a boat. I was traveling with a friend and he left me here." I internally face-palm, because I've made it sound like the idiot friend no one wanted. I really need to think before I talk sometimes.

"Ha! Naturally, they have the boat and they leave your sorry-hide here. Well, luckily for you, this island has many boats you can borrow. I believe one may be leaving in a few short moments to deliver some items to Banaro. Perhaps you'd be willing to run and catch it?"

I grin excitedly. Who knew? "Yes, yes of course! Thank you!" I tell him graciously. If I ever see him again, and everything works out as planned, I might just worship his very library.

I run as quickly as I can from the library, heading directly for the docks. There's no time to mess around.

The librarian watched my receding form go from the library and out the door, moving steadily along the dirt road.

"What an interesting child . . . Weird, but interesting nonetheless."

He smirked and opened his book, having luckily, just dog-eared the page he was on before it fell.

* * *

At the dock, I found the boat, miraculously might I add, that the librarian was speaking of. And boy, was I glad they hadn't left yet. In fact, I somehow just made it in time before their departure. Getting on the boat was slightly harder, however.

"Excuse me! Sir! Can I travel aboard with you?" I shout at a man on deck.

He looks at me like I've gone mental and walks away.

"No! No, wait! Please, hear me out! I need to travel to the island in which you're headed and I can't get there without a boat. It's a short ride! Won't you allow me to travel with you? Please?" I plead with the man, hoping he'll be willing to let me travel with his small working crew.

After listening to my pleas and thinking them through, he nods his head and lets me on.

Either being with Ace has given me a much more friendly appearance or the people on this island are very kind, but either way, people were very willing to give me a helping hand. And for that, I'm hella grateful.

I just hope my quickness and hasty getaway will lead me right to Ace and Blackbeard.

And hopefully save him.

* * *

Marshall D. Teach, -ahem- Blackbeard, was standing with his "gang" happily reading the newspaper and gallivanting around the town. Apparently, the "Strawhat" Luffy and his crew had created a disturbance neither pirates nor marines could even think to keep quiet about. And the bounties now on their heads only added to the news.

Laughing his signature, "Kehahaha!" Blackbeard threw the newspaper to one of his members, relishing in the thought of Strawhat taking down one of the judiciary islands as well as Luffy's now rapidly increasing bounty.

Unbeknownst to the Strawhats, Blackbeard was planning on taking Luffy down, right down to Impel Down himself.

However, watching with his careful eyes on a nearby rooftop was none other than Ace.

Let the battle begin.

* * *

There are times in a person's life where it feels like someone has literally taken time and slowed it down. It was even once quoted by Tennessee Williams that:

"_Time is the longest distance between two places."_

Time has spread Ace and I apart, so far apart. And I can't catch up. I can feel it deep inside, a hollow ringing in my ears, an intense and incessant beating in my heart and an unbearable pounding in my bones. Something is happening and I can't stop it.

I pace back and forth on the small boat, just simply praying that Ace will be okay, or even just alive, or that we will make it out. I don't care how bloody and bruised we end up getting if worse comes to worst. All I need to know is if Ace will be okay.

I need him to be okay. I need his silly grins and his stupid sleeping disorder. I need his lame jokes and his cheesy pick-up lines. I need his warmth and his touch. I need _him._

And yet, Fate seems to be determined to separate the two of us. Now, more than ever, I question why I even let him walk away.

Sure, this plan was brooding on the inside, just waiting for the opportune moment to come out and be employed to my life, but I should have just followed him anyways. The extra hour I've gone and wasted with my crying and this boat traveling has cost me. I'm so nervous it'll end up getting Ace more than I in the end, however.

* * *

It wasn't much later, possibly ten minutes or so when we reached the island. Instead of waiting for them to dock, I rushed out my "Thank yous" and dove straight into the water, finally putting all of those swimming lessons to good use (Thanks, Red).

In about two minutes, I had swum myself right up to the shore. Wet and probably looking like a poor soaked cat, I began my journey determined to find Ace.

I could feel it in the air. It was intense. The energy was dark and frightening, though the weather betrayed no signs of an unholy battle coming. Rather, the skies still showed that beautiful caecilian blue with perfectly mushy off-white clouds. These were the best conditions for cloud-gazing, but I would only ever share that moment with one person: Ace.

And it so wasn't the time. In fact, that presence was key. This was the place. Blackbeard, that annoying bastard, was here.

Shaking my hair, which inevitably made me look like a shaggy dog, knowing how long my hair is, I hoped that the majority of the excess water had been ejected from my locks.

I pinned up my bangs in an elaborate braid toward the back of my hair and prayed that the only two bobby pins I had to my name would keep them in place.

It was show time.

* * *

"Well then, let's prepare to leave!" Blackbeard ordered his crew. "Don't get delayed!"

It was at that moment, that very decisive moment in time that Ace decided to open his mouth. "Oi! Wait a minute, Teach. I've been looking for you."

At this, Blackbeard stopped all sense of motion. He paused. And then, slowly, turned to greet his visitor.

Ace watched this all with a casual glance. Sitting with his knees up and his arms tucked around them, one would almost see this as a simple greeting – one of two friends. But to someone like me, who had just happened to walk up to behind one of the houses, I could clearly see otherwise.

This was a fight.

And I barely, by the skin of my teeth, just made it in time.

"ACE! Commander!" Blackbeard happily shouted out.

I scoff. 'Commander' my ass. Commander is a word only those respectful of . . . I stop my train of thought because it appears Ace was on the same wavelength.

". . . that person are allowed to say," Ace finishes, clearly annoyed that Blackbeard had the audacity to even utter such a thing. "Stop mocking."

I smirk. Even as serious as he is, one can clearly see how amazing Ace actually can be.

Then, both Ace and I glance to see one of Blackbeard's friends, a guy with a cane, spout the most obvious piece of information in the book: "So, you're the famous Fire-Fist Ace . . ."

I face-palm. _'Well, no shit. Why do people always feel the need to state the obvious?"_

And then poor Ace has to clarify that he's correct. I mean, really, this entire thing is ridiculous. I could cut the tension in the air with a butter-knife, that's how tangible it is. So, why not just fight if it's so clear that that's what is going to happen? I can barely breathe over here!

And then I realize I do not have the right to complain one bit because I wasn't even actually supposed to be here. . . .Right . . . Hehe . . . Oops.

For a couple of minutes, casual banter occurs between the two, Ace being his polite self despite whom he speaks with. Props to him.

However, the idiot ruins it by asking Ace what the problem is. That daft moron.

I scoff again, and eagerly await Ace's comeback.

"Teach, stop asking useless questions. You took a man's life. You must have a comprehension of the current situation. Isn't that right?"

Ace leaves that question hanging. Blackbeard makes a face that one can only describe as airheaded. He literally looked at Ace with a damn question mark, that's how clueless he looked. And then it finally dawned on him, "Yeah, I know."

I slightly cough to cover up my laugh. And then I wince when I realize these guys are dangerous and they probably heard that. I'm such a genius. I really deserve a standing ovation for that move. I slink a little bit further into the shadows, but it seems I have gone unnoticed. Thank goodness.

After that, let me tell you, this is where the conversation becomes mind-blowing. Mind-blowingly fucking retarded. "Then, let me just say one thing, Ace. Will you become my nakama?! Rule the world with me! I've already planned every single thing. I will become the Pirate King! But first, I'm going to attack Strawhat Luffy and his crew."

At this, both Ace and I flinch. Not Luffy!

"Strawhat Luffy?"

"Oh, so you know him well?"

"He's my younger brother! I won't let you lay a single finger on him!" Ace lashes out aggressively. However, he's not finished. "And of course, I'm not going to be your . . ."

Before he can say, "Nakama," three bullets are shot at him. They go through, however; his Devil Fruit is more than enough.

I sigh in relief. He's okay. Those were killing shots, too. They easily would have killed anyone else besides Ace.

I laugh a little. However, I failed to notice a presence behind me. Apparently, I'd been discovered. A large man, really large, had found my little hideout. In haste, I moved to kick him, but he grabbed my leg and flipped me over, hard onto the ground.

"Oi! I found someone!" He yelled out to Blackbeard.

It went quiet as the brute slowly dragged me to Blackbeard himself. Rather than move from my position on the ground, I let him come closer to me. "Who are you?" He asked me.

However, I wasn't the one to answer that - it was Ace. "Rosie . . ." he trailed off, clearly too caught up in his thoughts to think of what to say.

"Hey, Ace," I mumble back.

"Wait," Blackbeard looks at the two of us rapidly. "You two know each other?"

Ace shakes his head, unhappy. "She's my new nakama. However, she's awful at following directions." At that, he gives me an angry look, and I can't help but feel bad. I know I should have listened, but at times like these, I simply can't keep still.

"Ah, Rosie," Blackbeard nods, trying to remember where he'd heard the name before.

The pirate with the cane was the first to put the pieces together and recognize me. "She's that renegade child, Commodore Mikhail's daughter and the one who ran away with Ace. Isn't that right"

I just nod. I'm in no mood to talk to creepy guys with canes.

"Ah, well if that's the case, Captain, we should definitely take her back to the World Government. I'd hate to have a minor like her run around rampant."

Blackbeard nods in agreement. "I don't see why we couldn't."

The guy moves closer to me, but Ace was much quicker. Using his Fire Gun, they scattered away from where I was like flies. I jumped up, happy to be freed of their presences and scampered up to where Ace was.

It was us against them now.

Another one of Blackbeard's crew threw, literally threw, a building at us. However, again, Ace was on top of it and used his Fire Pillar to get rid of the danger.

In a state of panic, Blackbeard ushered his crew away from Ace and I, telling them that they couldn't take us on. In his panicky state, Ace took advantage of the matter and blew a wondrous Fire Fist straight at him, which knocked him directly into the building he was facing.

I began to laugh, but Ace silenced me with a glare. "I told you not to come, Rosie!"

I nod in shame. "I know, but I came as back up. And if it's any consolation, I do hope you are away of the fact that you're winning."

"For now, but that could all change. He has a Devil Fruit, Rosie. And I don't know what it can do yet. Just stay back."

Ace jumps forward, carefully landing on the ground, wreckage surrounding him with both flames and broken chunks of building. He calmly walks forward to where Blackbeard stands.

What was even more amazing was when the fire around Ace became a part of him. I once again stood in awe of his prowess. The skills he has are positively spectacular.

Like a beached whale, Blackbeard flopped over in hopes to quell the flames. I couldn't help but giggle. I mean, sure he's big and kind of scary looking, but his antics force me to believe otherwise. I'm sure he is capable of killing people, but his behavior is so not threatening.

After calming the little fires that felt the need to attack themselves to a burning Blackbeard, which doesn't smell very good by the way, he laughed and spouted out an, "I understand, Ace. You want to kill me, right?"

The entire matter is so farcical that I literally lose it. I mean, Ace set him on fire, legitimately set him on fire, and he now comes to the conclusion that Ace wants to kill him?! As if the aura was not enough.

What's even better is his little tale of the necessity that it was to get the fruit he wanted and that he couldn't follow the rules, which were whoever finds the fruit gets to eat it, because that's what he's wanted all his life.

A. Fucking. Fruit.

Okay, yes, I am being a brat, but I honestly cannot even begin to wrap my head around how ridiculous the conversation is getting. Everything Blackbeard does just makes me question his very existence. Saying things like, "I memorized every shape of the Devil's Fruit from the book so I immediately knew that was the one I was looking for," literally made me want to curl up into a ball and laugh my lungs out.

Who's actually that desperate for a fruit?

"This ability has chosen me, Ace!" Blackbeard shouted out proudly.

Lame. So freaking lame. Fruit is an inanimate object. It doesn't choose you. And quite honestly, you don't choose it either. If you roll the dice right, you might get a better fruit than someone else, but still, the chance of a fruit choosing you is so not possible.

What happens next shuts me up.

Blackbeard's hands were becoming, well, black! An entire form of obsolete darkness was coming up and around his body, shooting forth high into the sky, which formed a twister of sorts. Darkness. That's all I saw was complete and utter darkness. An abyss.

It was noticeable only after a few seconds that colors were absent. Even the sky was being blocked off by his power.

It was evil: the Yami Yami no Mi, or the Darkness Darkness Fruit.

The rest of his crew high-tailed it out of where we were located, but Ace refused to budge, even smiling where he stood. I refrained from moving as well. If Ace could face this, then so could I.

The darkness went all over, around buildings, under buildings, over the ground, through pathways and even near where I was standing on the roof.

With one movement, and a simple utterance of the term, "Black Hole," everything turned to shit. Literally. Things broke, and disappeared, some even getting sucked into the ground. The homes were completely destroyed. The one building I stood on was facing the same fate, so I hopped over to where Ace was located and hung onto his arm out of both fear and awe.

Quite simply, everything around us was compressed by the power of darkness until there was nothing left.

And then, just as simply, everything was returned, dismantled, broken and crushed around us, almost like confetti, but much more dangerous.

I moved off of Ace, because at that moment, he was extremely warm – boosting for an attack.

"Firefly Fire," was his initial remark. His second was, "Blazing doll."

And with a sudden boom, Blackbeard was back to rolling on the ground caught in a firey-hell all his own. I didn't laugh this time, however; I feared his power. I feared it a lot.

"I understand the greatness of the power of darkness pretty well. However, why does a Logia-type like yourself fail to dodge such an attack?" Ace asks in bewilderment.

I'd begun to wonder myself. It made no sense as to why Blackbeard didn't even try to evade such an attack.

Well, that was until we realized that the darkness would handle things for him. The insufferable prick can absorb the entity of Devil's Fruit powers. Of course.

"Ace!" I yelled out as he was pulled from where he stood straight into Blackbeard's outstretched hand, his hat floating away from him.

In shock, both Ace and I finally realized what this meant. Without Ace's Devil's Fruit as long as Blackbeard was holding onto him, he was useless.

With a violent punch, Blackbeard slammed his fist right into Ace's chest. I watched feeling helpless until I finally understood that I needed to move. As Ace slammed into a building, I ran at Blackbeard with all I had and aimed to slam him in the face with my foot. Hitting him, Blackbeard fell to the ground, moving only a short distance away. He was huge, so even my wondrous little kick barely injured even his face.

"Kehahaha! Why would you even involve yourself in a man's fight?" Blackbeard asked, mocking me. He moved to grab my arms, but I moved and flipped over his left arm, stabbing it with my dagger.

In shock, Blackbeard fell back and swiped for me, but I did the same to his right arm. Smirking in success, I began to back away, but Blackbeard wasn't even remotely finished. Picking me up by my long hair, he both pulled and ripped at the locks, causing some parts of my head to bleed. Biting my lip in pain, I tried to ignore the slow, warm trickle down the back of my neck. Twisting up with as much force as I could, I slammed my teeth onto his hand, causing blood to spring forth from his skin. In both shock and anger, Blackbeard threw me directly into the now standing Ace.

Together, we fell back onto the ground. "Rosie," Ace muttered. "What in Hell's name are you doing?"

I cough. "I'm trying to help, Ace. It's not working."

And he just shook his head weakly.

Ace was bleeding. I was bleeding. And stupid fucking Teach was laughing at us. As we painfully managed to stand up, Blackbeard again attacked poor Ace back into his clutches. But Ace, being the quick thinker that he is, threw fire directly at Blackbeard. Simultaneously, he punched Ace in the neck, slamming him into another previously destroyed building.

Ace tumbled down in pain. "He almost broke my neck!"

In shock, I looked over. The two of them both delivered critical blows to the other. That's one nasty ability Blackbeard has. And Ace doesn't know where to quit.

The two of them were panting and salivating worse than a St. Bernard and yet, they weren't stopping. I could tell that this was it: The Final Blow.

Together, Ace and Blackbeard called forth powers that most people, including myself, would have difficulty imagining. Shouting out his last bit arrogantly, "The sun of the darkness? There can only be one winner!" Blackbeard and Ace unleashed the most belligerent and violent attacks.

And I could only watch and witness Ace, my Ace, the Fire-Fist Ace, lose.

Unconscious, near-death and defeated, Ace laid on the ground.

And I couldn't even fathom what was to happen next . . .

* * *

"_Anyone can deal with victory. Only the mighty can bear defeat."_

* * *

A/N: Wow.

That took literally forever. But there it is. With that dreaded thing we call a cliff-hanger. Forgive me. I just needed a break for a little while.

That was so serious. I'm actually depressed at how intense that is. And next chapter . . . I can't even proceed to think of what happens next.

Thanks for reading.

Reviews are welcome!

xoxoxo


	29. Until It's Gone

Ew. I hate myself a lot. I realized how lame the last chapter was because I . . . didn't know how to write it without pretty much writing a summary, so for that, I do apologize.

However, I wrote ANOTHER chapter after ANOTHER . . . what . . . month? I'm so lame, guys, I'm sorry.

This time I had a legitimate reason though. I wasn't being a delinquent, I swear. I had this major jaw surgery so I've been out of commission for a good three weeks. I'm sorry for that, but I seriously needed that surgery. My bite was all messed up and I got a lot of headaches.

I'm all better now and recovering, though.

Anyways, here's chapter . . . twenty-nine of who knows how many. I hope it's better than the last one . . . yeah . . .

Happy Reading!

[Disclaimer: The fantastical world of One Piece belongs to Oda.]

* * *

Chapter 29: Until It's Gone

* * *

"_A fire needs a space to burn / A breath to build a glow / I've heard it said a thousand times / But now I know" – Linkin Park_

* * *

"Ace . . ." I mumble dejectedly into the cold, war-torn ground. I felt utterly and completely dead. This feeling of weakness was . . . so embarrassing. The battle had been lost and yet, it felt like the world had been lost instead. Ace is injured and unconscious. Psychotic pirates are preparing to deliver our bodies to the government and all I can do is politely watch from the ground.

I may have just made the World's Worst Girlfriend List, or the World's Worst Everything List in general. I'm so _useless_. It's actually disgusting. And no, it's not one of those: "Oh, look, we have to go save the heroine of the story yet _again_," types of useless. It's the: "You fucking suck. You could have done something, but instead you sat, watched and summarized a fight because they told you not to involve yourself and now you're screwed because it turns out you're so weak and sheltered and annoying," list. And yes, that list does exist.

If Ace dies . . . seriously though, I feel like I'm going to be involved in his murder. Isn't there a charge for being a bystander in a homicide or am I just making things up? Either way, I don't even understand, nor do I even know how to begin to understand why everything just decided to end up this way. It's like my body lost control of everything and just decided to give up. If this was a soap opera and I could easily call this dramatic irony, I would be laughing. And instead, this is reality and I feel like crying.

Footsteps. Approaching footsteps pull me from my ever-pensive thoughts. Soon, I have the pleasure of seeing the man – more like monster – that I quickly learned to despise – Blackbeard, the king of the pricks. If there was ever an award created for being the biggest prick of all pricks, let me tell you, my friends, he just won. He flat-out destroyed the entire bloody competition. And he didn't even have to do that much. He just had to be _him._

Being the good thinker that I am, I quickly decided that I should stay put and not move. For now, at least. I just don't want to do any more damage than I already have seeing the predicament I am now in. I mean, I'm kind of at wit's end. I don't really want – or need – to push it any more so than it already has. My luck has officially run out.

Standing above me like a shadow reminiscent of something from the abyss, Blackbeard began to discuss his next options with his crew. "Do you think she's dead?"

'_Why not just check?'_ I thought to myself. _'Idiots.'_

"No way!" One of them responds rather animatedly. I couldn't tell which one, but he sounded randomly excited about whether or not I was alive. Okay . . .

"She could be," another stated. "You did hit her pretty hard – for a girl at least." Thanks for that one. I'm still breathing, stupid. And the sexist comment – you made a list.

And then the man of the hour decides to throw me for another loop – this being the thousandth time, at least. Blackbeard began to laugh. It was awful. His laugh makes my ears bleed. "Who cares?! As long as I hand her over, it doesn't matter whether or not she's dead or alive."

However, a crew member failed to agree, "I thought we were supposed to keep her alive? I'm pretty sure the Commodore specifically requested that she be kept alive. It didn't matter if we hurt her as long as she was . . . well, living."

"Oh."

_Oh._ Yes, my friends, this is the genius that is Blackbeard. One word, two letters and a whole hell of a lot of stupid – that's his mentality.

"I just expected more of a fight from the girl – the way they talked her up and all. She just sort of was . . . _there,_" Blackbeard commented.

'_Sure, I bet you did want more of a fight. Thank you for highlighting the fact that you're a prick.'_

I reached my breaking point. Anymore of this and I think I was going to go insane. I looked up at Blackbeard with an unkindled fire in my eyes.

"Oh!" Not that again. "Hello, Sleeping Beauty!" I'm going to kill him.

Blackbeard was looking down on me, both physically and metaphorically, and my goodness, was it pissing me off.

"'Morning!" I shout out, rather uncharacteristically if you asked me, but hey, I'm not really in my right mind at the moment. Not waiting for a response, I jump up to a position on my knees so that I can watch him from the ground comfortably. It's time to attack.

"Whoa! What a feisty child you are! In all honesty, though, I think you lack some serious common sense. What are you planning on _doing?_" Blackbeard asks me curiously. "You and Ace have already lost the fight! Seriously, it's quite all right and easily understandable to quit now." He looks at me like it's so easy to just _quit_. Like going cold turkey on the entire operation is something everyone can just _do._ As if. I've got Ace, Lucy and Red to be thinking about. Quitting? Ridiculous!

I laugh a cold, hollow laugh and stand on shaky legs. Of course they decide to shake now. I haven't walked on them in the span of only a couple of minutes, and they decided on their own that enough was enough. Fantastic.

With whatever adrenaline I have left, I fully prepare an attack plan in my head – a logical one, mind you – with a few tricks up my nonexistent sleeves.

"Blackbeard," I address him harshly. "You hurt Ace, killed Thatch, degraded myself, Ace and the entire pirates and then asked me to quit and give up like it was the simplest thing in the world. You must be the most naïve pirate in existence, eh?"

Without sparing him so much as a glance, I pull out a dagger I keep on my person at all times. This dagger was special. It had a small hilt donning several jewels – reds, blues and blacks – with a golden outline. The blade itself was simple steel – nothing too fancy. However, the blade itself could do fantastical things.

I took the dagger and slowly cut a slash through the palm of my hand – a clean, diagonal line across. Wincing a bit at the recent gash, I look to see the blood begin to drip from my palm. It was show time.

Blackbeard gives me the strangest look like his witnessing a crazy masochist or something. I'm not doing this for fun, jeez. "What . . . are you . . . _doing__?!"_

I brush off his question and continue. Taking my bright, quickly flowing blood, I start to draw a circle – a soon to be seal, not an art project, mind you – with several markings and runes – something I both read and educated myself about as well as something Red taught me.

Rather than stop me, the men watch in rapture as I grab my katana and place it on the seal. It was finally time to use it. Once placed, I begin to whisper a simple mantra while desperately praying internally that this plan works.

With a flash of the brightest Kelly green light, the seal disappears only to immediately reappear on my blade. The seal actually worked.

I smile, silently thanking Red for helping me out with this. However, my tiny shred of happiness was short-lived. Naturally.

Blackbeard began to clap and cheer, mocking my seal and me as though what I just did – what I accomplished – was nothing more than a joke, or better yet, a laser light show.

"Wow! Do it again, would you?! The colors and the symbols – so pretty~! He jests at me. I'll show him pretty colors. "Girls sure do like bright things, don't they?"

Humoring him by playing along, I counter, "Oh, you truly have no idea! I just so happen to love, love, _love_ bright things. I love them so much; I attempt to kill people with them! Go figure!" I laugh a little. The pressure and my adrenaline were starting to break down my walls. I was either going to go insane or just keel over and die if I kept this up.

". . . What . . . _WHAT_?" Blackbeard questioned sounding rather confused. If I had an ounce of forgiveness, I might've felt a shred of pity for the bloody fool, but at this point, I'd much rather let him rot.

"Just watch!" I call out excitedly. I sound like a little kid who just received a new toy. It's a bit pathetic and demeaning to my character, but I don't have the time to criticize myself about it at the moment.

Pointing the tip of my blade at Blackbeard, a surge of blue spurted forth from my katana – a dazzling and deadly lightning strike. In shock, Blackbeard and his gang – cough, motley crew, cough – failed to dodge the attack. Each member was scorched, some worse than others as they either noticed it sooner or were faster. However, it was truly not enough to mortally wound or even kill any of the men. It was just enough to say that I wasn't messing around.

Coughing an unbelievable amount, Blackbeard, who received the greatest amount of damage (Go me!), shouted out a barely enunciated, "How?!"

Smiling at my success, I gladly decided to explain. "Listen here, and listen well. You're an idiot – an absolute moron – so this might go over your head. What I just created was an elemental seal using my own flesh and blood. By drawing out the necessary runes, I was able to conjure the elements, as in earth, air, water and fire just in case you didn't know, onto my beautiful blade. Lightning just happened to be an added bonus that Red and I discovered. However, this seal is not limited to only my katana. I can employ the elements to any weapon that I so choose to use as long as I create, or have previously created, the seal. Pretty neat, eh, Blackbeard?"

Yeah, yeah, guys, I know. Here I am in a near-death experience and I'm being the teeniest bit arrogant. Okay, teeny is a bit of a stretch. I'm being really arrogant. Just let me have my moment for once before my adrenaline decides to bail. I can't let everyone else be a big shot while I sit around and write. So. Thanks. I think.

And then everything decides to hate me again. Blackbeard starts to laugh. What. In. The. Actual. Fuck.

"Rosalie Cass, that's pretty cool! The government is going to have a lot of fun using you. That is, if I ever get you over there."

I freeze up. "What are you even talking about? Say that once the fight is over. I might surprise you."

"No, you've already lost," Blackbeard denies my claim. "If you die, I'll probably just leave you here. I don't think your father would want a scrummy girl like you – you being dead, of course – to take up room at the Marine Head Quarters. Or maybe that's just me?" He shrugs.

It took me a couple of seconds too many before I realized what had actually happened. I fell to the ground. I was shot. In the stomach. And in the lower abdomen. Blood was beginning to stain my shirt and pool partially around me.

'_When?!'_

The pain – Holy Hell! The _pain!_ I was on fire. It was burning me. I felt it coursing through me. And almost instantaneously, my vision decided to go.

Rather than let him go with the final words, I began the conversation. "Way to go, Blackbeard. You can't even finish your own damn fight with a little girl such as myself on your own," I lash out. This type of unfortunate event would happen to me. However, Blackbeard doesn't respond. He just latches on to my long, golden locks with a vise-like grip and pulls with all of his might. I scream a blood-curdling scream as I feel myself leave the ground.

And then there's the blood. I could just feel it. It was dripping like someone had turned on the warm water in the faucet on one of the higher settings. My stomach's internal bleeding probably wasn't doing too hot either. If I didn't die from external bleeding, the internal was going to send me on my merry little way.

I needed a doctor, and I mean _any doctor_ – immediately.

"Wasn't that fun?" Blackbeard called out with a sickeningly sweet voice. "You're bleeding a lot, though, don't you think? I have a feeling you're not going to make it, Rosalie."

I choke on the blood. It had started dripping down my face (Ew.) and it found its way into my mouth. And then there's the fact I'm so dizzy that I've been seeing six Blackbeards for the past couple of minutes. One is enough, let me tell you. Because my vision was rapidly depleting, I had closed them, but I decided to reopen them one last time. I looked over at Ace before the inevitable – my death or being turned over to the government, whichever decides to happen first. I'm rooting for the former.

I hate losing.

A lot.

I mumble out an, "I love you, Ace." And smile for what seems to be one last time.

This is it.

The end.

000

"_When defeat comes, accept it as a signal that your plans are not sound, rebuild those plans, and set sail once more toward your coveted goal."_

* * *

"_Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage."_

Did I do you proud, Ace? Because I've never felt so courageous in my life, despite the fact that I couldn't help you from the start.

However, we lost everything today, Ace. The battle, the war and each other. I couldn't laugh in the face of danger.

I could only accept defeat.

* * *

A/N: EH. I don't even know. I wrote this chapter while camping up in the mountains and it's actually supposed to be _way_ longer, but then I realized that a) I haven't updated and b) this size for a chapter is actually pretty good for me being away and all, so I thought, "Why not?" and decided to post it. I'm sorry if it's kind of short. Brings me back to the beginning days of writing this story. Back when I actually updated like a nice person.

Anyways, I hope it's a good chapter. :D

And as usual, reviews are so very welcomed. They always bring a smile to my face.

xoxoxo


	30. A Song of Myself

Let's just not talk about the month of August because lazy.

And band camp.

I'd just like to say that my last chapter brought more views than any other this story has had. So, thanks, you guys. That made me really, really happy.

And to all of the follows and favorites. The lists continue to grow, so thank you.

So now, let's just read! Yeah!

And I also changed the description. Woot, woot.

{Disclaimer: One Piece belongs to Oda. I'm too plain to come up with anything as riveting as One Piece.}

* * *

Chapter 30: A Song of Myself

* * *

_/ The nightingale is still locked in the cage / The deep breath I took still poisons my lungs / An old oak sheltering me from the blue / Sun bathing on its dead frozen leaves / Nightwish_

* * *

"Captain Blackbeard, I honestly think that it would be better if we just left her here. She's already this close to dying anyways. I say we just leave her for dead. What's the government going to do with a dead, limp body of a troublesome girl? They've wanted Ace from the start. She was just an added bonus in respects to her father. Her death should suffice for all of the trouble she caused," One of the crewmates said rather insightfully.

Blackbeard didn't even take a second to think it over. He just nodded in assent. "Fine. Carrying both Ace's body and her body back to the ship to hand them over seemed like such a drag anyways."

Without even a glance at Rosalie's limp, bloodied and heavily bruised body, Blackbeard, and his horrible crew, roughly grabbed Ace and threw him like a sack of potatoes over one of his shoulder's, beginning the venture back down to the docks.

Rosalie and Ace were finally separated – seemingly for good.

* * *

Enter the plot.

Rosalie's practically dead. Ace is captured. Blackbeard has won. Luffy has no idea that Ace has been taken, or that Ace and Rosalie are separated.

Same old, same old.

However, things were about to change.

A Rosalie-centered change was about to take place and faces of old and new were about to emerge.

Let the next part of Rosalie's story begin.

And let the next part of her growth convert her from the easily defeated girl into a strong, independent woman that she should be.

On that note: here we go.

* * *

There are moments in people's lives in which everyone genuinely believes that a person has died. Their existence from this life has ended and they've, oh, I don't know, passed on to the next world. Or they've been reincarnated as a tree or some pleasantry like that.

However, it is in those moments that when said person "comes back from the dead" that are truly the best moments in the history of the universe.

Those are moments people live for and others die of regret for.

This moment is just one of the many that a certain so-called bastard of a man, Blackbeard, will come to regret for the rest of his sorry, useless life.

Or so I think . . .

In case you were wondering, it's Rosalie. Or at least, it's my inner subconscious speaking to you (thinking to you?) currently.

The events that happened after Blackbeard "killed me" and what happened next are quite possibly the most confusing and bizarre things to actually come out with and explain.

But I'm going to do so, confusing or not.

* * *

It took me ages to finally "come to".

I had to experience these . . . "dreams" so to speak. I had to mentally travel through them – from the deepest, darkest and most painful reclusive layer in the recesses of my mind – far into the cerebellum – to the most readily vivid and recent happenings.

And goodness, did those hurt.

Imagine knives being thrown into your head, cutting up things that you'd shoved far away into a back drawer, locked up and thrown away the key. Imagine every image being seen burning your very existence.

Easily the most painful was "their" death – my parents'. I had to relive my entire youth with them from the moment I was born, to my first toy, to our first holiday spent together, to my first favorite food back when I liked eating a lot, to every shard of happiness that created me.

And then an abrupt sharp turn to their ultimate demise.

(Who decides to organize memories like this? It's awful.)

It wasn't normal the way I saw "my life pass before my eyes". I thought I was supposed to see things I regret. I didn't regret my childhood. I didn't regret knowing my parents. I don't regret having them die! I feel pain and anguish knowing I was there, but that I was a child who could do nothing more than watch, but nowhere do I feel a true sense of regret.

So why dredge these things up now?

And what was worse was the fact that I'm seventeen. And yet watching these memories literally placed me back into my young, little kid body. I was reliving the past in a dream-like existence. I was living happiness and sadness over.

And then that version of this . . . inception was over. An immeasurable amount of unbelievable pressure was placed upon me, and then I was falling into a new dream.

If I weren't as concerned about this mental-tumbling I was forced to ensue, I'd have coined the term "dream-ception".

I was with Mikael on my first day of school, as in my being privately tutored, and as it would seem, my teacher was an insufferable wench with a taut-faced demeanor and a high, tightly wrapped bun etched with lines of thick, graying hair.

However, my opinion of such a scary-looking woman would soon change as we both began to realize I did not follow the "norm". I was a gifted child.

And then soon after, Red took up the majority of my memories. I did not need to relive the moment when he found me in the snow after my parents' death because I think of it very often. But just seeing his jovial face had me crying a river of tears – mentally of course.

Or maybe I was physically crying and I just couldn't feel it. If you can cry when coming out of death – that is.

No matter, these patterns of my memories continued to stretch on for a long while, each growing more vivid and sad.

It was then that one face appeared and it seemed my brain finally gave up trying to stay as neat and organized as one could even think to call it that. Ace . . . they were all of Ace. Everywhere I was forced to look, something of his would appear – be it his freckles, his hair (long, shaggy – just how I liked it!) and his goofy-lopsided grin. I couldn't decide whether or not I wanted to cry more, or smile in happiness.

I was unable to do either, however. I was thrown with more than enough force, too. My mind became eerily prophetic and I could feel myself panic. It was what I saw that scared me because it was new, and untold. There wasn't anyone to help me through these things. I was alone, and I had to bear them alone.

First off, a man, completely and utterly unknown to me, with many tattoos and a furry white hat with black spots appeared. I was not given his face, but that quick flash of his appearance alone left me intrigued and confused.

Next, I saw Luffy with an unbelievably beautiful woman whom couldn't possibly be real because of her goddess-like looks. It was ridiculous. Especially because she was with Luffy!

And then he was in a prison. _That_ doesn't come across as a shock to me because it's Luffy we're talking about here, but still. That does not bode well at all.

Nothing seemed to add up. How did those three apply to the future? To Ace? To me?

However, the next vision was almost too unreal for me to believe. There kneeled Ace on an execution platform. And in front of him lay the battlefield for a war of unbelievable proportions. A war not even the gods could foretell.

_Bellum omnium contra omnes._

_The War of All against All._

* * *

I think my inner state of panic and confusion was what caused me to wake up – who even knows how such a thing was even possible. I did wake up, mind you.

However, I wasn't on land. I wasn't bleeding to death. I wasn't even in pain – I was too numb for that, apparently. Rather, it would seem that I was underwater – I took a quick glance around the room and found a small porthole that displayed an array of fish and other creatures as well as bubbles and the like.

'_How am I underwater?!'_

You must understand that me being the sheltered girl that I am, I have never seen a submarine with my own two psychedelic eyes. They're so bizarre and unnecessary in this day and age that even the government sees no reason to build or use them. My usually extensive knowledge from the books Mikael had at home seems limited in this area. How unfortunate.

However, either way you looked at it, my mental ramblings were completely beside the point. Looking down, all I saw was white! White bandages, a white canister for the intravenous needle in my arm and a white medical gown for patients in a hospital – all in a submarine in the ocean of all places!

I tried to move, or at least sit up, and instantly regretted the decision. I may be numb, but all of the medicine had seriously caused my stomach to react rather tumultuously. It was a rocky nightmare. Seeing as I hadn't eaten in a long time, it was probably bile causing me so much distress. I tried to quell my stomach by breathing deeps breaths in and out of my nose and mouth.

It barely helped.

Thus, this is why I hate medicine.

After I hissed at the way my stomach felt, I finally, yes finally, realized why I was still feeling remotely uneasy – someone was in the room with me!

He was hella funny looking – that's all I'm going to say. He had a simplistic cap/hat thing and shaggy reddish-brown hair, all the while donning a white zip-up the front suit for crew members in a submarine, I'm assuming? I mean, it could be just protocol, but either way, I'm so out of my element here, anything goes.

Luckily for me, he was sound asleep. I'd actually despise waking up to someone staring at me solidly for who knows how long. That's creepy and beyond normal.

However, his being asleep had its downside. It left me with no answers and meant that as far as I know, I'm virtually alone on a foreign ship . . . submarine . . . and had no means of any other communication with civilization. I can't walk, or even move for that matter.

If someone were to send me an S.O.S. button, I would have pressed it so hard, it probably would have broken.

Annoyed and muddled, I clear my throat in hopes that - oh! I don't know – wake up! Unfortunately, my luck – if there ever was any – seems to have died off along with just about everything else in my life. He doesn't wake up!

'_Dammit!'_

Sighing in defeat, I slowly, and I mean _slowly_, reposition myself. It was like watching molasses move. Being that sluggish and lethargic is quite possibly the most self-degrading and disappointing thing to do, or even watch if I had to. At least the bed was comfy.

Sleeping next to Ace on all our travels was fantastic and sweet. It helped me sleep and kept me warm on the cold nights. However, on the open sea, and in a sitting position at that, a person's back, my back, really starts to send out: "I hate you!" vibes.

'_Ace . . .'_

I silently think his name, and frown. '_**Why didn't I get taken with him?!'**_

"Why, I wonder . . ." A low, murmuring voice mumbles out from across the room.

Oops . . . I guess I said that part _out freaking loud._

I flinched in surprise at the first noise I'd heard in quite some time. And there, I see a man – no, scratch that – _the_ man with the furry spotted-hat watching me curiously.

"Who are you?" I ask him. I'm pretty sure watching a person have a mental debate over past events isn't something normal people do, so I'd like to know whom I'm dealing with, be he a psychopath or a sadist or anything of the like.

He smirks. _'Fuck. He's a psychopath. I knew it.'_ "Didn't you know that it's common courtesy to address yourself first before learning the name of another person?"

Ew. Manners, what? What are those things? But honestly, is he being serious here? I came back from a near-death experience and he wants to shake hands and offer pleasantries with me?!

In a childish way, I mutter out a, "Rosalie Cass. My name's Rosalie Cass."

Smiling an even greater grin, if that was even possible, he looks me dead in the eyes. "Oh, I know."

I scrunch up my eyebrows in confusion. "What?! Then why even waste the time to ask?"

"Like I said, it's common courtesy, Miss Cass. However, I am a tad bit depressed and disappointed that someone such as yourself, one of the _Commodore's _daughters, failed to recognize someone such as myself."

At that remark, I almost through a scalpel, which was placed precariously close to my bed, at his stupid head. But I didn't because . . . well. We've covered this.

"Well, then, who are you?"

"One of the Eleven Supernovas. The name's Law. Trafalgar Law."

And the grin never fails to grow.

I'd much rather watch it cease and desist, but nothing seems to want to fulfill my wishes at this point.

He's so arrogant, too. It's so weird talking to someone who isn't nice and kindhearted like Ace. This man is cold. You can feel it in his stare.

He's hollow.

"I take it that you're the one who saved me?" I asked him warily. I really don't want to owe this guy such a big favor. Life-saving isn't something easy to repay for.

Law nodded. "However, at the moment, you are on my ship speaking to the captain." Oh, fabulous. He would be the captain of a submarine.

He continues, "I'll be asking you questions from this point forward. If you refuse to answer, I have ways of bringing the truth forward." He looks at me maliciously. "If you answer properly, I may let you ask your own."

I flinch yet again at the cold tone his voice took. I just woke up and he's threatening me!

For someone so . . . attractive, (Fine, you caught me! I said it. He might even be considered more attractive than Ace.) his frosty personality failed to bring any warmth to the man.

Contrary to belief, I didn't really want to die again, so I complied with his wishes or orders rather, and decided to answer whatever questions popped into that egotistical head of his. Sometime later, I would probably have an intelligent and logical debate that I could have had with him pop into my head, but at the moment, I was too tired and weak feeling to care.

He probably wanted a fight deep-down anyways. He seems like that kind of a guy.

So, I nod my head to symbolize I would do as he said.

"Good. Let's start with what anyone would deem as the basics: age, height, weight, so on, so forth."

Oh, wow. Okay, great, a doctor's appointment. "Um, I'm seventeen years old," he starts scribbling avidly into a clipboard that seemed to have just magically appeared out of nowhere. _'Okay . . . I mean, I guess. You do you, Law. Whatever floats your boat . . . submarine-thing.'_

"Ah . . . I'm five foot seven and a half . . . and I weigh . . . around one hundred and ten pounds, I think?" He nods and continues to write.

After that, I sat and waited. I mean, what was I supposed to do, spout nonsense for hours as he writes onto his clipboard. I think not.

Because I stopped talking, Law glared up at me, his gray eyes staring deep into my own, causing me to shiver.

I missed Ace's bright, brown ones. Like honey.

Actually, I just missed everything. Law's eyes showed no sense of brevity, weakness or loss. They bore no kink in the armor or missing link in a chain. They were cold, and stormy.

Mine seemed to be their antithesis. They bore struggle, strife and determination. Loss and the desire to die covered by a sense of love and happiness. They showed everything. I was an open book.

However, it was what Law asked next that threw me deep into a well of things I just was not prepared to answer.

"Tell me about your relationship to the Commodore and to the Fire-Fist, Ace, the Second Division Commander of the one and only Whitebeard Pirates, and the pirate that you knew as Red, as well as the Yonko, Shanks."

No. No, no, no, no. And no.

I can't open up about this right now.

This is too much.

I'm not ready.

* * *

_I am about to take my last voyage, a great leap in the dark._

* * *

A/N: And there's Chapter 30.

Law is now officially involved. Yes! I've been waiting for the correct moment to put him in. And here it is.

Reviews welcomed! As well as follows and favorites!

You guys are great!

xoxoxo


	31. Let the Flames Begin

So, yeah, school's going to get in the way of this fic a lot.

Forgive me.

I'm just going to write a cute, short chapter because a) I haven't given this fic any thought as of late and b) I haven't updated in ages.

Happy reading! (And thanks for all of the favorites and follows and views!)

{Disclaimer: One Piece belongs to Oda. I'm too lame to come up with anything like One Piece.}

000

Chapter 31: Let the Flames Begin

* * *

_/ What a shame / We all became such fragile, broken things / A memory remains just a tiny spark / Paramore - Let The Flames Begin_

* * *

So, rather than be that dull ignoramus that thinks her life is so important, so much so that I would recount the entire story so far, – hehe, no – I don't think you guys need to witness a summary worthy of a Naruto flashback, I'll keep it brief.

Law knows about Lucy, Shanks, Red and how close Ace and I have been, as well as the "battle" that went down at the island.

However, he rescued me and apparently he's just too good, and high, and mighty, and Trafalgar Law-y to tell me:

Why he rescued me

Why he felt the need to rescue me

Why he was even freaking there

Why he couldn't "pop" up before Ace got TAKEN

Why I can't leave

I guess when you're Trafalgar Law, you can make your own rules, live by them and make people suffer because of them.

He'd make one hell of a dictator – that's for sure.

Speaking of Law, yeah, um, he left me locked in this asylum-worthy room on his submarine without anyone to talk to –yes, not even the polar bear that can speak . . . I really need to stop questioning things – and a lack of food.

So, here I sit.

In pain.

Waiting.

And waiting.

You'd have thought that – Oh, I don't know – he'd leave me with a puzzle? A book? A contract to sell my soul to the devil?

Oh, wait, that's a joke. I probably must have in another life and thus why I'm here, but still. Let's be real here.

Oh . . . right. He's a doctor, – I think? I honestly should check for verification because he's a ridiculously shady guy – so he probably wants me to sleep.

An insomniac sleeping. First of all, that's a ridiculous oxymoron.

Second, I JUST LOSS ACE, THE MAJORITY OF MY MEMORIES TO A SADISTIC MAN WHOM I DO NOT KNOW, AND AM IN A PRISON OF SORTS.

And he has the audacity to make me, me, of all people, sleep?!

* * *

Does Law even have a crew?

Like, legitimately, I fell asleep, somehow, and woke up to nothing. No change in scenery, no sense of life and no sustaining substance to keep me alive and okay, also known as food, because um, yeah, I'm human and I need that. Thanks, Law. Thanks. You do you.

On the other hand, besides my physical needs, I'm not just sitting here complaining. I've been thinking, too.

First off, how do I rescue Ace? He's clearly with the government – I can infer that much. However, where, and why? I mean, there's no record of whom his father is, so they can't have learned that Gol D. Roger actually has an heir. In all actuality, they probably only know of Ace due to his high ranking status aboard Whitebeard's ship.

IF it were me, wouldn't a person, even if I were dead, take me as well? Isn't that just a logical concept? Then again, it's Blackbeard, so . . . anything can happen.

I don't know. Taking Ace is just so preposterous. I feel like my brain has rejected the idea that it even happened. Stupid psychology.

Then there's the fact that I have no idea where he is.

Unless . . . they took him to Impel Down . . .

Would they actually do that? Would they truly make him suffer there?

That's so not okay. Every layer of that prison gets worse the further you move down.

Is it because he was with me? Is it my entire fault? Or is it . . . my father's?

There are just too many questions, not enough answers and a serious lack of time.

I have yet to learn what the date is.

* * *

So, it turns out Mr. I'm The Captain Trafalgar Law felt the need to go to the next destination without me. Something about me being too weak, or ill looking, and on the run.

Of course.

And where was this said location might you ask?

The one, the only:

Sabaody Archipelago.

* * *

_Somewhere, something incredible is waiting to be known._

* * *

A/N: Yeah, I know. It's more or less a teaser. I just wanted you guys to know I was alive.

Chapters will be coming, I promise. It's just been so busy with competitions for band and school itself.

But when I have free time, I will get going and post more.

Just please wait patiently.

And if you ever want to see something specific, I'll work on it. Just tell me.

Thankssss~

xoxoxo


	32. Best Be on My Way

Eh. I, uh, need to find a schedule to start updating again.

-Shrugs- sorry. Really. Lots of life things getting thrown at me at the same time. Vacation was my only opportunity to breathe, and so I sat in front of a television and did nothing.

Ah. Well.

Happy reading my pathetic excuse of a chapter.

Oh, and totally Happy, but totally late, New Year. Yooo, we're in 2015 now. What is this.

{Disclaimer: You're looking to Oda, not me. I just add in people and pretend they're actually part of a plot my lame-brain mind could never come up with. Ironically.}

* * *

Chapter 32: Best Be on My Way

* * *

_I would like to hold my little hand_

_How we will run we will, how we will crawl we will?_

_I would like to hold my little hand_

_How we will run we will, how we will crawl?_

_Send me on my way_

_-Send Me on My Way _– Rusted Root

* * *

I got up. Yes, I did. You'd all have been proud of my accomplishment.

How pathetic. The fact it took me what I'm assuming to be two to three days after Law "graciously" took me to safety to move myself off of this medical bed . . . Why am I actually okay?

Or sane?

Or maybe, I'm actually insane. Ayee.

Jokes aside, I'm moving; I'm leaving; I'm not telling anyone I'm going; I'm gone.

Slowly ambling to the white door – the lame, white, sterile thing – I grab the gray, cool handle and twist to the left and down my left hand.

'_Yes. I'm out.'_

Oh. No. Sorry, guys. That was a joke. Mr. Doctor felt the need to LOCK his patient into the . . . uh, er . . . patient room and leaver her there. Because all of the finest doctors in the universe – they are out there – do that. Right. Maybe I should start taking notes; he's on a roll, let me tell you.

Actually, he's an idiot. I can easily pick a lock.

Oh. Oops. There aren't any sharp objects in the room. Rightttt. I must look dangerous or something for him to go to those lengths to remove all sense of weaponry from the medical/patient room.

Where did it all go? Does this submarine have multiple medical rooms? I mean, come on. It's an underwater boat, not Atlantis.

So, using whatever was left of my mentality, I looked around and spotted an adjacent window. Like, a legit window, porthole thing. Right. There.

Am I blind, blonde or both? (And yes, I can make that stereotype. I'm blonde. And blind. Kinda. Loving me glasses.)

Walking over to the window, I attempt to maneuver it open, and go figure, the little round thing does move. Aww, yeahhh. Unfortunately, I cannot go out in these hospital garments, because, ha, that would be totally embarrassing. And conspicuous. And I am not signing up for that party.

Banging my head against the wall in defeat, I see if anything of mine got left anywhere.

And there

Leaning on the far side of a cabinet

Hidden in the veil of a shadow

Was

My

Suitcase.

My beat-up, luggage-bearing excuse of a device.

Leaning against the cabinet, which, by the way, holds absolutely nothing besides medicinal alcohol.

Sighing in peace, I grab the suitcase, thrust open the lock and pull out a comfy pair of pants and a nice, loose white t-shirt. I'm assuming my boots are gone, but I had an extra pair of sneakers in underneath my shirt side of the suitcase, so I throw those on as well.

However, I'm assuming my hair's a disaster. But I honestly do not want to check. It'll probably look like a mass of destructive waste, as in the dirt and blood the Blackbeard decided to run through it, and my typical bedhead.

Then again, maybe, just maybe, Law was nice enough to wash my head. Seeing as I was pretty much dead to the world, he could have . . . done . . . anything with . . . me.

LAW.

Oh. NO. LAW.

I SWEAR.

Shaking my head side-to-side to get that image out of my head, I just cringe. Stupid teenage imaginations. Sure, I'm at the edge of the spectrum, but still. Seventeen year olds can still . . . think like that.

I reach up to feel my head and hair, when I notice that something is actually wrong. And yes, I only noticed it now because I had already felt funny.

My hair.

It was gone.

At least up to my shoulders that it.

The majority of my hair had been removed.

Did Law cut it? Why did it need to be cut? He didn't ask. I was never supposed to cut it. My mother . . . my _mother_. Ohmigodwhatdidhedoandwhydoeshethinkthisisokay.

I literally broke my promise without even voluntarily breaking it. This is actually awful.

That is not okay. First of all, a big "Fuck you" to Blackbeard for damaging my hair follicles and a nice, "You're going to experience the wrath of Hell if I ever see you again," to Law for cutting my hair.

"I cannot believe him," I mutter out-loud.

I officially need to leave this submarine. NOW.

Grabbing a hidden wakizashi in my suitcase, I strap into to my belt and grab a miniature carton and place it on the floor so that I can reach and slide through said porthole. Lifting myself up rather ungracefully, I slip my right leg through, then my right arm. I begin to push with my left leg and eventually am able to maneuver my head out of the hole. Soon, I can pull my other two limbs from the sub and land, shockingly, into water.

Now, no. It wasn't deep. It just . . . well, it was wet. And cold. And I just got out of rehabilitation for my Blackbeard-inflicted wounds.

'_This sucks.'_

Moaning, I walk to the bank and just whine for a little. Seems to be the story of my life at this point. Every little thing I do continues to become a nuisance for me.

Drying off my shirt by wringing it out, I frown. There's no hope for the pants, but right here, right now, I couldn't care less. It'll dry off.

Shaking myself, I look around.

I made it.

I'm free.

And it's time to get Ace a rescue party.

Well, more than just me, at least.

That is, if I can actually talk to anyone or if my social anxiety will beat me to it.

* * *

On second notice, _maybe_ I should've written Law a big, "Thanks, dude!"

Then again, his service was less than satisfactory.

* * *

_Nobody can give you freedom. Nobody can give you equality or justice or anything. If you're a man, you take it. _– Malcom X

* * *

A/N: Lame. I know. Sorry. But there are words guys. Yeah, words. Look, they're all over. I actually wrote something.

Just, uh, bear with me, okay? I'll start writing as soon as things slow down.

Thankssss.


End file.
